


Neverness

by shadowwalker213



Category: The A-Team (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-05-24 08:44:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 71
Words: 135,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14951396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowwalker213/pseuds/shadowwalker213
Summary: When a mission goes terribly wrong, the team members, two in particular, learn more about themselves than perhaps they really want to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Adopted from Silverstar
> 
> Originally published October 2005

_Our greatest pretenses are built up not to hide the evil and the ugly in us, but our emptiness. The hardest thing to hide is something that is not there. --- Eric Hoffer_

 

It started out, as so many of their jobs did, with the adrenaline flowing and the Jazz turned on high. It ended with Hannibal demoralized and guilt-ridden, Murdock back at the VA, submerged in deep depression, and BA on near self-destruct mode.  
  
They were the lucky ones.  
  
*****  
  
"Hannibal!"  
  
The Colonel hurried across the floor of the storage building, where Face was waiting with a wide grin. With a flourish, he pushed open a rusty door. Hannibal looked past him into the semi-dark room, his grin immediately matching his lieutenant's.  
  
Scattered across the floor were an assortment of old car parts, mechanic's tools, and various other flotsam and jetsam of a once-busy auto shop. Yes, the parts were rusted and yes, some were obviously past any use to anyone, but to Hannibal and Face, it was treasure.  
  
BA was less optimistic.  
  
"You outta your minds, both of ya."  
  
"C'mon, BA, you know you can do it! There's nothing you can't do with some old parts and some tools!" Face was going overboard with the enthusiasm, but he knew how to play BA. The more enthusiastically his gifts were praised, the harder he worked to uphold that praise. And regardless of the poor condition, they had nothing else to work with.  
  
BA grumbled some more, but with his three teammates cheering him on, he moved through the room, picking up this, tossing aside that, until finally he stopped and looked over at Hannibal.  
  
"I can't guarantee nothin, Hannibal, but I guess I can come up with somethin."  
  
Hannibal grinned, delightedly lighting a cigar. "I knew it, BA. Now, tell us what to do..."  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal walked slowly across the parking lot. He'd left for an hour or so, needing, not so much to get something to eat, but to get away from here for a while. He felt guilty, leaving him, but then, Face didn't know much of what was going on around him anyway.  
  
He walked down the hallway, half an eye watching for MP's. So far, their cover story was holding up. It had helped that the client, well known in the community, had gone out of his way to play along. It took only a few minutes to reach the ICU and move past the desk to the room.  
  
Inside, Face lay on the bed, sleeping. He wasn't as heavily sedated as he had been, and he was breathing more easily now. Another couple of days, the doctors said, and he would be able to breathe completely on his own. A few more days and he would be released. After that, the doctors had a list of plastic surgeons they could try.  
  
Try.  
  
Hannibal moved the chair closer to the window, unable to make himself sit too close to the bed. As if he wasn't worthy.  
  
He stared at the glass of the window, unwilling to look at his lieutenant except through the reflection. He wondered if he would ever be able to look him in the eye again.  
  
*****  
  
When it was finished, BA stood back, critically eyeing the contraption. He wasn't happy with it, not at all. Standing next to him, Face's initial enthusiasm waned visibly.  
  
"Well, it's not exactly..." He stopped, unsure how to describe what he was looking at. It was supposed to be a transformed van, armor-encrusted, with two stout catapults at the sides for launching the age-hardened tires. It looked, instead, like the van had transformed itself into a rusty crustacean.  
  
"No, it ain't 'exactly'. I tol you there weren't no guarantees." BA shook his head, tossing a heavy wrench to the ground. "I don't know, Hannibal. I don't think this is gonna work. I know this isn't gonna work."  
  
"Nonsense, BA! It'll work just fine. And after all, it only has to work for a few minutes. By then we'll have the bad guys on the run and won't need it any more."  
  
"Yeah, Big Guy, have a little faith in yourself. 'Self-confidence is the first requisite to great undertakings.' Samuel Johnson." Murdock smiled, satisfied.  
  
"Motivational therapy, Murdock?" Face looked at the pilot, skeptical.  
  
"In spades, Faceman. You wouldn't believe how much more confidence I feel after..."  
  
"Okay, Murdock, we can go into the details later. Right now, we've got some bad guys to flatten." Hannibal nodded his head, and the team headed for their respective positions - Hannibal in the van with BA, Murdock and Face each in a jeep confiscated earlier from the enemy camp. As BA's monster van rumbled out of the garage, the two jeeps pulled up to flank it, forming a wedge of steel.  
  
It looked more impressive than it was.  
  
*****  
  
BA mumbled angrily at the valve which refused to move. It was rusted shut and no amount of grease, canned or elbow, would move it. The big man rested on his elbows, the wrench hanging loosely from his hand. He stared at the rusty valve. Stared at the rust.  
  
Rust.  
  
He knew better. He knew it wouldn't work. He shoulda stuck to his guns. He shoulda told Hannibal to forget it, right from the start. Should never have started in the first place.  
  
What did Hannibal know, anyway? And Face? Face didn't know nothin about mechanics. Not enough, anyways. They put their faith in him, in BA. The Mechanical Genius.  
  
Yeah, right.  
  
BA sighed, wiped the sweat from his face, and pushed away from the engine. He couldn't work on it any more. Didn't want to work on it any more.  
  
Didn't want to look at anything mechanical.  
  
The door slammed behind him.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock, on the left, a crazed grin on his face, watched out of the corner of his eye as the first volley sailed off. The tire hit the small tin shed where the bad guys were hold up, producing a thunderous bang as the corner tilted dangerously inward. He pressed on the accelerator, grabbing the semi-automatic as he aimed for the building.  
  
He heard, rather than saw, the second volley. It didn't sound right. And it didn't look right. Because no tire went sailing into the building. Instead, there was a screech of metal, a heavy thudding noise...and a cry of pain. Terrible pain. Followed by the unmistakable sound of a vehicle skidding on the blacktop, rolling, crashing.  
  
He watched as the van came to a barely-controlled stop. Watched as BA and Hannibal stumbled out. Watched as the bad guys raced from the shed and took off. His jeep came to a slow, rolling stop. He stepped out, rifle still in his hand. Walked slowly toward the van, which sat, the engine ticking, a metallic groan coming from the far side. Stepped around the van. Watched BA and Hannibal struggling to pull Face from under the overturned jeep.  
  
Saw what happened when pieces of hard, catapulted tire hit flesh. _  
_


	2. Chapter 2

"You've seen him? I mean, visited?"  
  
"No. Not yet. I'm gonna...just...not yet..."  
  
"I wanted to go, but Hannibal said no." Murdock sighed, brushed some dust off the windowsill. He stared out at the grounds. "He said Face was doing better, though. They're going to take out the breathing tube tomorrow. Hannibal said, anyway. That's good. I guess."  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, that's good."  
  
"Hannibal won't say much about...well, I mean...he looked...he looked pretty bad, y'know, out there...but he'll be okay...right?"  
  
"How would I know? I ain't no doctor..."  
  
Murdock looked over at BA, who sat, hunched over, on the bed. BA didn't come to the VA unless he had to, to pick up Murdock. He never visited. But he'd shown up tonight for some reason. And no earrings, no gold. And his hair was cut short. He looked...well, he didn't look like BA anymore. Murdock almost asked him about it, but then, it didn't really matter. Just like it didn't matter how he'd gotten in.  
  
Murdock sighed. Nothing seemed to matter much, lately.  
  
When he and BA had left the hospital, BA hadn't said where they were going. Murdock hadn't really cared. He was a little mad - no, a lot mad - that Hannibal had made him leave. But by the time they got to the van, the anger was gone. Seemed like almost everything was gone. He'd felt...empty. Except he was nervous-like. Kept getting a little tremble inside that would run up his stomach to his chest and...ping. That was the only way he could describe it. Ping.  
  
He didn't really notice when they pulled up at the VA. BA had Murdock stay in the van while he walked over to a phone booth and made a call. A few minutes after BA came back, Dr. Richter had come and taken him inside.  
  
And he'd just kinda watched out the window since then. Didn't know what he was watching for. It was just...better...that he watch.  
  
Hannibal had called him a couple of times, to let him know about stuff, but the voice over the phone didn't mean much. It was hard to listen to him. Hard to talk to him. Nothing to look at. Nothing to keep out the distractions. Then BA had come. That was different. Then Murdock had a fa...something to look at. Someone to talk 'with'. But after a while, Murdock didn't want to talk any more than BA did.  
  
For a long time, they remained silent, BA sitting on the bed, Murdock leaning against the window.  
  
There wasn't much to say.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal was sitting in the waiting room. Had been for what seemed like hours. No, didn't seem like it. Had been. Normally, he would have been sitting in with Face, talking to him, giving him the old pep talk whether Face could hear him or not.  
  
He couldn't do that.  
  
Their client had shown up, earlier. The bad guys had cleared out, but given what the team had been able to collect on them, the sheriff was chasing them down. The two men had discussed the whole case, a debriefing of a sort, out in the waiting room, and when the client left, Hannibal had stayed there.  
  
He glanced around him, looking at others who also had been thrown off balance by fate. Families and friends, all taking a respite from the claustrophobic cubicles where their loved ones struggled. All waiting.  
  
His was the only solo act, and he found he didn't care for it. Hannibal had hoped BA would show up but, again today, he had not. It was almost a given that, whenever one of them got seriously hurt, the others would feel varying degrees of guilt, wondering if there might have been something they could have done to prevent it. That was normal for them. They got over it.  
  
But BA wasn't letting go of it this time. Hannibal hadn't seen him since that first day, when they'd rushed Face into the emergency room. Once the doctors had given their report, BA had walked out, taking Murdock with him, and hadn't been back. He had called the hospital later that day to tell Hannibal that Murdock was back the VA. BA didn't say it, but Hannibal knew from the tone of voice that the pilot wasn't doing very well.  
  
Hannibal had expected that. He was worried, but just knowing Murdock was with Dr. Richter took a lot of that load off. But who was BA with? Hannibal had called him, but it seemed BA always had something to do, someplace to go. Anything to get off the phone. It was troubling. It wasn't right. BA had the least of any of them to feel guilty about. He'd warned them. Practically hit them over the head with his concerns. But they had ignored him. Hannibal had practically ordered him to build the damn thing. What could go wrong? It wouldn't work just right? So they'd improvise, like they always did.  
  
Who would have thought...well, Hannibal should have...  
  
He looked around the room again. Families and friends talking quietly, sharing their fears, their hopes. Hannibal sighed, softly. Not that he felt like talking to anyone. But there was something about having another person there. Someone else who knew...  
  
Then again, who knew about something like this? Getting the hell beaten out of you by the bad guys, that they knew about. Getting shot, or stabbed, yeah. Been there, done that. Even the possibility of one of them getting killed was something they'd adjusted to, were prepared for.  
  
But not this. This was something none of them had thought about. Having something happen that would...change things. Not something that would mend or heal and then they would move on like before. Not something that they would speak of later with ironic humor and a certain survivor's pride. Not even something they would grieve before eventually going on to live their lives.  
  
This was something different, something that would not heal, or be joked about, or go away.  
  
Something that would change...everything.  
  
He looked around the room again. No, he didn't like being here, alone.  
  
*****  
  
"Mr. Baracus..."  
  
BA stopped dead, every reflex saying run like hell. But the MPs never called him 'Mr. Baracus', and never spoke softly. He turned. Pursed his lips, resigned.  
  
"Hey, doc."  
  
"Did Murdock talk to you?"  
  
BA shrugged his shoulders. "A little. Not much."  
  
Richter sighed. "Well, that's more than he's done with me. I ask him questions and he either ignores me or just smiles and shakes his head."  
  
"Yeah. He ain't doin so good."  
  
"What about you, BA? If I may call you that..."  
  
"Don't matter, doc."  
  
"That seems to be the consensus. Hannibal have the same outlook?"  
  
BA looked down the hall, then at the floor. "Don't know. Haven't talked to him much."  
  
"Why is that?"  
  
BA scowled up at the doctor. "He's got other things to do right now."  
  
"Like worrying over Face?"  
  
"Yeah. Exactly."  
  
"You're worried, too."  
  
"O' course I am."  
  
"It must be hard, seeing him like that."  
  
BA swallowed. "I ain't seen him. Not since it happened."  
  
Dr. Richter didn't seem surprised. BA wondered if Hannibal had already told him.  
  
"Will you see him? Anytime soon?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"You think he'll blame you."  
  
"No. I don't think he'll blame anybody. I just...I don't want to see him. Y'know? I don't want to see him."  
  
"He won't look like that forever. There's plastic..."  
  
"I know!" BA took a deep breath, made his voice softer. "I know. But can't no surgery fix all that. I ain't no doctor, but even I know that much." BA looked straight into Richter's eyes. "I don't go see him, 'cause I can't stand that he ain't Face no more. I don't even wanna call him that. 'Cause now, that's just cruel. That's all that is."  
  
BA turned, walked slowly down the hall.  
  
"...just cruel..."  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal woke with a start. A nurse was standing beside him. The day nurse, Sandy. He looked at the light coming in the windows.  
  
"Were you here all night again? You're going to wear yourself out, John, and then what good will you be to Tim?"  
  
"I must have dozed off. What time is it?"  
  
"Seven. I just got here. Do you want to go home and get some sleep? We won't be removing the tube until later in the morning."  
  
Hannibal stifled a yawn. He would love, more than anything, to go home and get some real sleep. But he knew if he went near a bed, he'd never make it back to the hospital in time. And he had to be there when they removed the breathing tube. He had to make sure...  
  
"Well, maybe I will run home and take a shower, clean up a bit, anyway. What time should I be back?"  
  
Sandy frowned. Much as she admired the man's devotion, she really didn't need him here as a patient. And he would be if he didn't start taking care of himself. But she had learned over the past few days that he was stubborn as a mule and totally devoted to his friend. A combination impossible to reason with.  
  
"The doctor's scheduled it for eleven, but that's not set in stone. It depends on what else happens between now and then, but I can make sure it doesn't happen before ten."  
  
"All right then, I'll be back at ten. I'll just go in and let him know I'm leaving." He smiled brightly at her, both of them knowing it was manufactured.  
  
Face was still sleeping. Or what the nurses called sleeping. Hannibal knew it was the drugs, and the brain injury. At least the doctors were optimistic about that. His motor reflexes were good. Once they got him off the painkillers completely and let him come out of it, they'd know for sure. Hannibal looked forward to that with dread. He chose to believe the doctors, that the brain injury was minor. He'd really only caught a couple glancing blows from the flying debris.  
  
He shook his head. Glancing blows. Right. Sounded so...minor. If any of it had gone a half inch closer, they would've buried him. As it was...  
  
That's what Hannibal dreaded. What would happen when Face woke up. When they told him. When he could see for himself...  
  
He stopped in the doorway, looked back one more time before leaving.  
  
"Sorry, kid. God, I'm sorry..."


	3. Chapter 3

Hannibal shut the door to the apartment and leaned heavily against it. It had taken all his concentration not to close his eyes and sleep on the drive over. Three whole blocks. He had to have a shower. Hot as hell to clean up, ice cold after to wake up. But first he had a phone call to make. And he wasn't going to be nice this time.  
  
It took several rings before the phone was picked up.  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
"BA, I want you at the hospital by ten."  
  
"Wha...I don't know, Hannibal. I gotta..."  
  
"You 'gotta' nothing, BA. They're taking out the tube this morning. That means he has to be awake. That means he needs us there. Both of us. Ten o'clock. Sharp." He hung up.  
  
Hannibal practically slammed the phone down. He looked at it, looked at his hand, still gripping it tightly. Looked at the tremble.  
  
Why the hell did he feel so angry?  
  
*****  
  
BA stood there, listening to the dial tone, then sighed and placed the receiver gently down. There was no getting around this. He knew, eventually, he'd have to go. And when Murdock had told him about the tube yesterday, he'd known Hannibal would be calling him. He took a deep breath, looked up at the ceiling. He almost hadn't answered the phone. Almost. But he knew if he hadn't, Hannibal woulda been over here.  
  
He looked at the clock. He had a couple hours to kill before he had to be there. He stood in the middle of the living room, staring at the carpet. Not thinking, but thinking a mile a minute. Maybe that was how Murdock felt sometimes.  
  
"...he needs us there..."  
  
Maybe BA needed to be there. For BA.  
  
Maybe it was time.  
  
Forty minutes later, he was walking down the corridor toward the ICU. He stopped at the desk. He felt ashamed that he didn't even know what room Face was in...  
  
"Can I help you?" A petite nurse stepped up to the desk. Her name tag said "Sandy".  
  
"Uh, yeah, I'm lookin for..." Damn, what name had they used? "Uh, Tim..."  
  
"Oh, you must be BA. John said you would be coming, but I didn't realize you'd be here so early. Tim's over here." She bustled around the desk, smiling at him. He followed mutely. She wasn't giving him time to prepare. He really wanted some time...  
  
She took his arm gently, leading through the door. Right up to the bed. He looked everywhere but at him.  
  
"I know it's hard." She spoke softly, close to him, not wanting Face to hear. "I understand why you haven't come to visit before this. I've seen it many times before. Especially with this kind of injury." She stepped back a little, still speaking softly but apparently not worried about Face hearing the rest. "He's still pretty much out of it, but he'll be gradually waking up now. Once he's awake enough to understand what we're doing, the doctor will proceed with the removal. He's done well when we've removed it temporarily, and the doctor thinks it's time to get rid of it completely."  
  
Sandy smiled up at him. Encouraging. No condemnation. No judgment.  
  
"Do you want to look at him now?" Voice again soft. A gentle hand on his arm.  
  
He took a breath. And looked.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal had stepped out of the cold water feeling almost human again. A couple cups of coffee, strong coffee, and he was ready to go again. He knew, of course, that it was only a temporary fix. Just as he knew Sandy was right about his needing to take it easy. The last thing the team needed was for Hannibal to land flat on his back.  
  
They were in enough trouble already.  
  
He wondered if BA would actually show up at the hospital. He hoped so. He really, really hoped so. Selfishly, he wanted someone else there, someone to help carry the load. But he also knew BA needed to be there. Needed to face the demons. And it was also true, what he had said to BA.  
  
Face needed him. He needed all of them.  
  
Hannibal wished Murdock could come. But he didn't dare chance it. Murdock had been almost polar opposite to BA in his reactions. In the jeep on the way to the hospital, he'd stared at Face. Never looked up, not all the way in. Just held his hand and stared. And afterward, in the recovery room, when Face had been covered in bandages and blood, and tubes and machines had practically hidden him from view, Murdock had stood by the bed and stared, moving his head to see around the apparatus. Looked him over as if memorizing every inch of him.  
  
Never said a word.  
  
Never expressed any emotion.  
  
Just...stared.  
  
Only when Hannibal told BA to get Murdock out had he reacted at all. In anger. And yet, the moment BA took his arm, he shut up and walked out, albeit sullenly.  
  
Hannibal had kept in touch with Murdock by phone, letting him know what was going on. He knew things were not going well for him. He was so easily distracted, many times Hannibal had to repeat himself. He'd also kept in touch with Dr. Richter. They were both worried.  
  
Maybe, once Face was better, once he had healed up some, they could bring Murdock to visit. Either at the hospital, or the apartment. Maybe he just needed to see Face, to make sure he was okay. Alive, at least.  
  
Or maybe it would push him right over the edge. It was so hard to tell...  
  
*****  
  
It was both better and worse than he had expected.  
  
The better was that most of his face was covered with gauze. A heavier bandage covered the area over his left cheek, eye and forehead. No blood. No dirt. No gore.  
  
The 'worse' was the fact that most of his face was covered in gauze. What little skin BA could see was either pale, almost dead looking, or marred by angry red slashes. Where the scars would be. The lesser scars.  
  
He looked again at the heavy bandage. That's what had pushed him away to begin with. Knowing what was under that bandage.  
  
Or rather, what wasn't.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
He'd forgotten about Sandy, still standing close by, hand on his arm. He looked down at her.  
  
"Yeah. Yeah. I'll be okay." He looked back at Face. Even knowing what he did, he felt better now. Somehow, he had hope. Face looked so much better, with clean, white bandages. Like someone was supposed to who was healing, who would get better. He would get better. BA could think that, now.  
  
Sandy looked at him closely, nodded. She pulled a chair up, nearer the bed. Giving him a last encouraging smile, she quietly stepped out of the room.  
  
BA stood for another moment, looking at him, thinking, planning. Then he slowly sat down in the chair, reached across and took Face's right hand, careful of the IV. He held it gently, but firmly.  
  
He wanted Face to know he was there.  
  
*****  
  
It was getting lighter. He remembered that. From before. Everything would get lighter, and then there would be voices. There would be pressure, on his neck. And then it would get hard to breathe. The pressure would be back and miraculously, he could breathe again. It had happened several times. Each time, it was a little easier.  
  
This time, the voices said something about letting him do it on his own. He wasn't sure, exactly, what they meant, but he tried to nod his head, let them think he understood. It hurt to do that, though. A lot. He tried to talk, but his mouth wouldn't move. At all. He started to panic. The voices came back, closer. Something about wires. Wires. They'd wired his jaw. Because of the accident.  
  
Okay.  
  
Yeah.  
  
The accident. He remembered that. Mostly.  
  
BA's monster machine. Something had gone wrong. He hadn't seen what, just heard it. And then something hit him, hard, in the head. And shoulder. His side. Hard. He remembered the pain, terrible pain, and watching his jeep careen to the side, rolling over. And then he'd blacked out.  
  
There were just snapshot memories after that. Bright lights. Voices. Pain.  
  
And Hannibal.  
  
He opened his eyes a little wider. Well, his right eye. There was something covering the other one. He tried to look for Hannibal, but it was hard to get his eye to move. It hurt, even that little movement hurt. Damn.  
  
And then he was there. Hannibal. Leaning down close. Smiling. But even with his fuzzy vision, Face knew he was worried about something. It was there in his eyes. Hannibal was talking to him, saying something, but Face couldn't quite make out the words.  
  
Hannibal moved away. Again, Face felt panicky. He didn't want to be left alone. He tried to call out, but his voice wouldn't work. And those damn wires...  
  
And then BA was there, in Hannibal's place. Holding his hand. Talking to him. His voice was different from Hannibal's. Dumb. He knew their voices were different; it just seemed like now he really noticed it.  
  
He tried to smile at BA, but he was getting tired again. At the same time, he didn't want them to go. Not now. He tried to squeeze BA's hand, to hold him there. It must have worked.  
  
BA squeezed back, and didn't go.


	4. Chapter 4

"I really wish you had waited, Doc." Hannibal chewed on the unlit cigar. His voice was calm, but there was a spark in his eye that the doctor didn't miss.  
  
"I know you wanted to be there when I talked to him, Mr. Smith, but he asked. I can't very well tell a patient they can't hear about their condition until their friends arrive. That would only have caused more anxiety, and he was clearly worried enough. Besides, he took the news very well, all things considered."  
  
Hannibal looked at BA, both of them knowing what that meant. No one, including Hannibal, could give an Oscar-winner like Face could. There was no way he would ever let a stranger, even his doctor, know what was really going on inside. And now he'd had more than an hour to think about things, without them. Which meant he'd already decided how to 'handle' the team.  
  
Damn.  
  
Sighing heavily, Hannibal nodded at BA and the two men continued down the hall to Face's room.  
  
He'd been moved to a private room the day after the breathing tube had been removed and he was no longer considered 'at risk'. His voice was gradually coming back, although it was difficult to understand what he was saying because of the wired jaw. Then again, he hadn't had a lot to say. The conversations had mainly centered on the job. He hadn't asked or said anything about his injuries to either Hannibal or BA. Which only made his asking the doctor, when they weren't there, all the more worrisome.  
  
Hannibal pushed open the door and stopped. Face was sitting on the edge of the bed, back to the door, staring out the window. They'd had him up and walking around with an aide several times a day for the last couple of days. If everything stayed on an even keel, he would be released the next day. At the sound of the door opening, he spun around, a little too quickly. BA was at his side instantly, grabbing his good arm to keep him from falling off the bed.  
  
"Whoa, man, take it easy. You okay?" BA looked anxiously at him.  
  
"Yeah, jus lil dizzy..." He let BA gently push him down on the bed, sighing as he came to a rest against the pillows. Face closed his right eye.  
  
Hannibal tried not to look at the bandages on the left side of his face, but it was hard not to. He turned to BA, wondering how to start. BA shook his head and watched out the window, making it clear whose job he thought this was. Hannibal sighed, resigned, and moved to the side of the bed.  
  
"We saw your doctor. He said he talked to you about your injuries."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You want to talk about it?"  
  
"Nothin to talk 'bout."  
  
"Look, I know this isn't easy, kid, but we..."  
  
"Tired, Hannibal." Face slid further down on the bed, pulling the sheet over himself.  
  
"We have to talk sometime, Face." Hannibal winced as soon as he said it. BA turned his head, glaring at him. But Face seemed to ignore it.  
  
"Later..."  
  
"Okay, kid." Hannibal leaned close to the bed. "But we're here for you. You remember that."  
  
He signaled to BA and the two men headed for the door. Hannibal looked back before letting the door close completely.  
  
Face was softly hitting his fist on the bed.  
  
*****  
  
He hadn't lied to Hannibal. There was nothing to talk about. And he really was tired. He'd taken a little excursion, after the doctor had left. Unauthorized, unsupervised. But necessary.  
  
He'd known, of course, that things were serious. That these weren't the every day, moan-and-groan-then-walk-away-from-it injuries. It was obvious there were some major problems. Which was why he hadn't asked Hannibal about them. Why he waited until he knew Hannibal and the guys wouldn't be around before he asked the doctor. He didn't need their interference, or their lies, however well-meaning. He needed the truth, complete and unvarnished. And that's exactly what he'd gotten.  
  
He listened without saying a word as the doctor went through everything. Whenever the doctor had hesitated, he'd just waved his hand, impatiently, wanting, needing to hear everything. Listened just as quietly as the doctor had gone through the therapies and surgeries and corrective measures. When he'd heard how long it would take, when he'd heard what couldn't be done, only then had he spoken.  
  
He'd thanked the doctor, and asked him to leave. After a moment's hesitation, the doctor had complied.  
  
He'd waited a few minutes, not really thinking about anything. Just...not being. And then he'd carefully moved to the edge of the bed, and slid off, holding tightly to the railing with his good hand. His left leg and hip ached badly, but the bones were only bruised, not broken. He would manage. After all, he'd walked up and down the hallway several times. Okay, with an aide practically holding him up, but he'd done it. He could manage the ten or twelve feet to the bathroom on his own.  
  
It was slow progress, grasping the bed, then the bureau, finally the door to the bathroom. Trying to keep the dizziness from overwhelming him. A couple of times he nearly missed his handhold, misjudging the distance. But finally he was in front of the sink. In front of the mirror.  
  
He leaned heavily on the sink, catching his breath, not yet having the nerve to look up, to look at the mirror. He felt cold. But he forced himself to look up.  
  
He felt the air go out of him. No. No, that couldn't...that couldn't possibly be him. Not...that...thing...  
  
*****  
  
"Whatcha think, Hannibal?"  
  
"You know what he's doing as well as I do, BA."  
  
"You gonna let him get by with it?"  
  
Hannibal lit his cigar, puffed slowly. They were standing outside the hospital, in the shade of a large oak. Just behind them and to the right, up four stories, was Face's window. Hannibal was watching it as they spoke.  
  
"Yeah, BA, I am. For now. Once he's out of the hospital, settled in at the apartment, then we'll have to deal with it. But right now, I think he needs to be in control of things, as much as he can, anyway. So we'll give him some room. Just not too much." Hannibal frowned.  
  
"You don't think he'll do anythin stupid, do ya?" BA followed Hannibal's gaze up to the window above, then looked back when there was no response. "Hannibal?"  
  
"I don't think he intends to, BA. But we'll keep an eye on things. Sometimes, impulses kinda take over. We just need to make sure we're around if that happens."  
  
BA looked out toward the street. It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day. So why did he feel so damn cold?  
  
*****  
  
He had stared at the reflection in the mirror for some time, staring at every inch of gauze. Finally, he reached up, slowly, with his right hand. It took some doing, but he got the fastener off the end of the bandage, and slowly drew it away from his face. Methodically, mechanically, he removed each piece, dropping them heedlessly on the floor. When only the dressing over his cheek and eye was left had he stopped. Taken inventory.  
  
He ignored the myriad scrapes, thin cuts and bruises. Those he could've gotten in any fist fight. What he looked at were the stitches. Dozens of stitches. Hundreds. Hell, thousands. Around his jaw, his lips, his nose. The doctor had said they had to do a lot of work, not only closing wounds but on broken bones. Lots of broken bones.  
  
But this...  
  
He felt sick. He shivered. But he had to finish. He had to.  
  
He reached up again. His hand shook, and he hesitated, forced himself to calm. He took hold of the dressing's edge, and slowly peeled it down. When he got a good start, he closed his eye before continuing. When he felt the bandage painfully release from his cheek and fall against his wrist, he dropped his arm, letting the dressing join the rest of the gauze on the floor. Taking another deep breath, he looked.  
  
He realized immediately that what he had previously seen was the good part. The part he might have been able to cope with.  
  
With the dressing gone, there was nothing supporting the left side of his face. It sagged. Like Sister Agnes' face had sagged after her stroke. The cheek was sunken, horribly discolored. Even the bone above his eye seemed distorted, and his eyelid lie useless.  
  
He stared at that eyelid.  
  
With one last shudder, he lifted the eyelid. And looked, fascinated, sick.  
  
There was absolutely nothing there...  
  
*****  
  
Sandy had watched when the doctor walked out of Tim's room. She'd been there when he had asked, through those horrible wires, for "the whole story". She would look in on him shortly, knowing that patients usually needed some time alone after such a session. Particularly in cases like this. So she waited until she felt he'd had time to get over the initial blow.  
  
She was on her way in when she heard the low moan coming from his room. For a moment, she hesitated. She didn't want to intrude on his grieving, but at the same time, sometimes patients got overwrought and did things they regretted later. She would just step inside, to see what was happening. If he was otherwise all right, she could leave without disturbing him.  
  
The first thing she saw when she opened the door was the empty bed. That was all she needed. She rushed in, immediately checking the far side of the bed to see if he had fallen. That's when she heard the choked off sob. From the bathroom.  
  
Damn!  
  
She rushed in, expecting to find him crumpled on the floor, or sitting on the toilet seat, distraught and crying. Instead, she was horrified to see him leaning against the sink, his head against the mirror, his dressings scattered on the floor around him. She knew immediately what he had done.  
  
"Tim! Tim, come on, hon, let's get you back to the bed, Tim, come on..." She gently took him by the shoulders and pulled him away from the sink. Wrapping his right arm around her shoulder, she got him moving out into his room. He leaned heavily against her, barely walking on his own. The moment she got him sitting on the bed safely, she pushed the button for help. Two more nurses came hurrying in, and together they got him back into bed. Sandy stayed with him while the doctor was called.  
  
It took some time to replace the dressings. The doctor softly scolded him, but there was just a bit of admiration in his voice. It took guts to do what Tim had done, even if it could have caused more damage. Once things were back in place, he took a few more minutes to remind Tim that they had only started to repair the damage. He just had to have patience.  
  
Sandy watched him closely as the doctor finished up. She knew there was something Tim wanted, just from the look on his face.  
  
"Is there something else, Tim, something you need?"  
  
"Don't tell them. Please."  
  
The doctor hadn't liked it, nor had Sandy, but their allegiance was to the patient. So when John and BA showed up a half hour later, Tim's sojourn was not mentioned.  
  
*****  
  
"Think we should go back up now? Even if he don't wanna talk, he might be ready for comp'ny."  
  
"Yeah, I think he's probably ready for us. We'll just let things ride for now. Let him adjust at his own speed. We'll be there when he is ready to talk."  
  
As the two headed back into the hospital, BA cleared his throat, and Hannibal knew something else was bothering him. He stopped at the door, waiting.  
  
"What is it, BA?"  
  
"What happens when he wants to see it, Hannibal? Then what?"  
  
"Then we'll be there, too, BA. No way will I let him go through that alone..."


	5. Chapter 5

BA closed the door firmly and stepped back, looking over the van with a critical eye. He'd spent hours removing the catapults, repairing the damage, tuning the engine, washing, polishing...it looked, once again, brand new.  
  
And he didn't give a damn.  
  
He climbed into the driver's seat and pulled into traffic. He had to pick up Hannibal at his apartment before goin to the hospital. He looked nervously at the clock. He didn't want to be late.  
  
Today they were bringin Tem home.  
  
Tem. Funny, how they'd fallen into that. The last couple of days, what with getting Face ready to leave, there had been more and more hospital people in with him, and, of course, that meant callin him by his alias. Made it easier to slip into callin him Tem when they were alone. 'Cept for that once, he hadn't been called 'Face' since that tube had come out.  
  
Didn't seem to notice. Or care.  
  
Same with all the hospital people, comin in and out all that day. Therapists and rehab people. He and Hannibal had paid close attention to what they said, but Face didn't seem to listen at all. The only way they knew he'd heard a word was an occasional wave of his hand when one of them would stop talkin long enough to see if he understood.  
  
In fact, he'd only said one thing the whole time. When everybody had finally left them alone, Hannibal had tried to talk to him about leavin the next day.  
  
"I guess you must be a little nervous about leaving tomorrow, huh, Tem? Well, we've got it all worked out, so don't worry, okay?"  
  
Face had looked at Hannibal, and BA could see he was more than 'a little nervous'. He looked almost scared.  
  
"Where?"  
  
"I've got us a little apartment, about three blocks from here. It's all ready for you..." Hannibal had gone on and on about it, but Face wasn't listening any more.  
  
One word. Where. What did he think they were gonna do, dump him in some rehab center or somethin?  
  
Hannibal was ready and waiting when he arrived, and they drove in silence to the hospital. BA parked out in the back, near the rear entrance but off to the side. Some instincts still prevailed and they'd been here way too long. BA had tried to talk Hannibal into finding a different apartment, but he wanted to be close to the hospital. And now it would be impossible to move him, what with Face bein there, too. Made sense, with all the surgeries and stuff he'd have to have done, but still...  
  
It was gonna be a nightmare keepin the two of 'em safe...  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal was waiting impatiently for BA to arrive. He didn't want to be late. Not one minute late. He'd seen that look on Tem's face yesterday. No way he was going to give him any reason to think he'd be left behind. He would make damn sure of that.  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. He needed to relax. Face - scratch that, Tem - Tem would notice that right away. And Hannibal wanted this transition as smooth as possible. The guy had enough on his mind.  
  
Hannibal knew why he was so tense this morning. He shouldn't have called Murdock. Well, yeah, he should have, but not just before leaving. Should've called him last night. Then they both would have had time to calm down. As it was, Murdock was back at the VA climbing the walls. That was the other reason Hannibal was uptight. It seemed like he'd just barely hung up with Murdock - or rather, been disconnected - when Dr. Richter had called him.  
  
He hadn't been reamed out like that since he was a recruit.  
  
So now, any further news about Face - Tem - had to go through Richter first. No exceptions. Which, in a way, was a relief. He wouldn't have to deal with the aftermath. But Murdock's reaction this morning had destroyed any feeling of hope he'd had.  
  
He'd really thought Murdock would be happy about Tem being well enough to be released. And he was. But then Murdock wanted to know how he was doing. What he looked like. And he wouldn't accept any evasions. He'd taken the broken arm and ribs without comment; the broken - shattered - jaw had upset him, but not unduly. Hannibal should have stopped there. But he'd been on a roll.  
  
Damn.  
  
It was the first time, the only time, he'd had someone listen to his take on Tem's situation. He'd talked to the doctors, sure, but mostly he'd listened to them tell him what was going on. And BA just didn't want to talk about it, period. The only thing he wanted to discuss was security, and transportation, and...practical things.  
  
Sometimes Hannibal felt as though he were talking to a robot. Like the mechanic had taken over not only BA's brain but his heart as well.  
  
So when Hannibal suddenly had a listener, an eager listener, he just lost all sense of perspective. Forgot who he was talking to. And told him about the nerve damage, and the bones that had basically been destroyed...and the eye.  
  
And he'd ignored the change in Murdock's breathing, and the soft moaning that started coming over the line, and just blathered on and on...until he heard Murdock screaming, "NO NO NO NO" and the thump when the phone was dropped and the screaming receded...  
  
And then nothing but dial tone.  
  
He came out of his reverie when BA pulled up in the van. They rode without speaking a word, all the way to the hospital. BA insisted on parking the van in an out of the way place until Hannibal brought Face down. And he would stay with the van, just in case.  
  
For some reason, that irritated Hannibal. A lot.  
  
Fine. Fine, BA. You worry about security. You handle the paranoia. You act like everything's SOP.  
  
I'll take care of Face...as usual...  
  
He practically slammed the hospital door...  
  
*****  
  
Face sat on the bed, looking out of the window. He studied the branches of the tree carefully. The way they jutted here and there, little nubs sticking out. The leaves that held on tightly to some branches, shunned others. He wondered if that meant the tree was slowly dying. Too bad. It looked like it had been magnificent, in its day.  
  
Sandy came bustling in, cheerful and bright, as always. He loved to watch her. Even at her most serious, there was a warmth in her eyes...He looked away. That was just Sandy. She looked that way at everybody.  
  
Even him.  
  
"Well, Tim, today's the big day. Excited?" She smiled brightly at him as she started lining up the various bottles of meds he'd be taking with him.  
  
"Yeah, sure." He tried to sound enthusiastic, but frankly, he was scared to death. It was one thing to have the people here looking at him, the doctors, the nurses. They didn't seem to think anything of the way he looked. But he knew what was 'out there'. He'd seen the looks when he'd been walking up and down the hallway; how the civilians, even other patients, would look at him and immediately look away again. Except the kids. They stared, bug-eyed.  
  
The Faceman made people turn away in disgust. Scared little kids by just looking at them.  
  
Oh, yeah, he was excited about leaving.  
  
He became aware that Sandy was standing next to him. He looked up at her. God, those eyes...  
  
"I know you're scared, Tim. You don't have to pretend, okay?" She sat down next to him, hand on his shoulder. "I won't lie to you. It's not going to be easy, and a lot of times, it won't be pleasant. People on the outside won't understand. When you want understanding, they'll give you pity. When you want acceptance, they'll turn away. But your real friends, like John and BA, will always be there for you. And you've got a lot of people here that will help you.  
  
"And if you ever need me, you know how to reach me, okay? Don't think you'll be bothering me. If you need someone to talk to, or someone to yell at, well, I've got a pretty thick skin." She laughed then, and he thought it was the most beautiful laugh he'd ever heard.  
  
"Knock, knock! Transport's ready and waiting, kid."  
  
He stiffened involuntarily. He hadn't realized it was that time already. Sandy stood up, and started going over Face's meds with Hannibal. He only half-listened. She sounded just as friendly to Hannibal as she had to him.  
  
That was just the way Sandy was. She treated everyone like her best friend.  
  
Didn't mean anything.  
  
Before he knew it, he was being whisked down the hall in the wheelchair, headed for the elevator that would take him out of his sanctuary and into the lion's mouth. He felt panic building. Then, as they waited for the elevator doors to open, he felt Hannibal's hand on his shoulder, squeezing firmly.  
  
"Don't worry, kid. We're with you."  
  
He forced himself to relax. It wasn't like he had a lot of choice. Bite the bullet.  
  
He kept his head down as they entered the crowded elevator. Hannibal moved protectively to his left side, keeping anyone from getting too close. Face began to breathe easier. This would be okay. No one had really seen him, and Hannibal would keep them away. This would be okay.  
  
They made it through the lobby. Face kept his head down; at least that way, if someone did see, he wouldn't have to look at their expression. He knew Hannibal was hurrying as much as he dared without jolting him too much. He glanced up, realized they were almost to the door. He heard the swish as they sailed through, felt the warm breeze flow over him.  
  
He looked up at the familiar sound of the van. Started to smile when he saw BA behind the wheel.  
  
And then he saw the tire coming at him. The pieces of rusted metal from the broken catapult rushing toward him.  
  
Felt them hit.  
  
Over and over and over...  
  
He raised his hands to protect his face and head. Gasped in pain as his cast-covered left arm protested the violent movement. He started shaking, uncontrollably. He heard Hannibal and BA, talking, felt their hands on his shoulders, his arms. He couldn't think. All he wanted to do was keep from getting hit again.  
  
And then it was over. The van was gone. BA was gone. Hannibal was in front of him, holding his shoulders, talking and talking. The shaking stopped. He looked up at Hannibal and saw the anger in his eyes.  
  
Hannibal was angry at him.  
  
He looked away. Looked around him, still keeping his head down. They were sitting off to the side, under a big tree.  
  
His tree. The dying tree.  
  
Hannibal was still talking. Telling him it was all right, they hadn't been thinking, they would get a cab to take him home...  
  
He was just causing trouble. More and more trouble...  
  
It seemed like forever before a cab pulled up with BA in the back. They whisked him into it, neither of them saying much. Face wanted to sink down into the seat. Three blocks later, he was being helped out and, while Hannibal paid the taxi, BA helped him into the first floor apartment.  
  
He didn't even look around.  
  
"Tired...I'm tired..."  
  
By the time Hannibal had come in with his stuff, Face was feigning sleep in his new bedroom. His new sanctuary. His new hiding place.  
  
*****  
  
BA stalked out before Hannibal had a chance to do or say anything. Two hours later he pulled up in front of the apartment. Hannibal could only stare.  
  
BA was driving a four-door sedan...


	6. Chapter 6

"What's with the car, BA?" Hannibal spoke softly, afraid of waking Face. He sat on the couch across from BA, who was studying the owner's manual for the sedan.  
  
BA looked up, scowling. "You ain't that dumb, Hannibal."  
  
Hannibal held his retort with great effort. Literally counted to ten.  
  
"BA, I understand your being upset with the way he reacted. And I should have thought about his tying the van to the accident. But..."  
  
"Why do you keep callin it an accident? It wasn't no accident! It was a screwed up job. A bad plan. A lousy plan!" BA angrily turned back to the manual.  
  
"Now, wait a minute, BA. There was nothing wrong with that plan. If those catapults had worked the way we thought they would, we would have had those goons with no problem."  
  
"So it's my fault, right? Even when I tol you it wasn't gonna work. When I tol you it wasn't built the way it should be. When you turned right around and said do it anyway!"  
  
"If I had thought you were really serious..."  
  
"Like that woulda stopped you! Well, now there ain't no van to mess with any more! And I don't hafta make no damn contraptions just 'cause you say so."  
  
"So now you decide when you're going to follow orders, is that it, Sergeant?"  
  
"You were on the damn Jazz again! You don't see nothin straight then..."  
  
"I see a lot more than you think. That's why I'm in charge..."  
  
"Well, maybe you shouldn't be! You coulda got Face killed with your..."  
  
"No one got killed!"  
  
"Well maybe he'd be better off if he had been!"  
  
There was a sudden moment of shocked silence, and then the two men heard a door being quietly shut at the end of the hall.  
  
Hannibal looked at BA, shame and anger fighting for control. BA took the fight out of his hands. He turned and stalked out of the front door, slamming it loudly behind him. Moments later, Hannibal heard the sedan roar out of the parking lot.  
  
He stood in the nearly silent apartment, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall. His team was disintegrating around him and he had no idea what to do about it.  
  
*****  
  
"Murdock? Are you listening?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
Dr. Richter sighed. Murdock had some definite problems, certainly, but Richter always felt the pilot had made good use of them. Now, however, he knew Murdock was in deep shit.  
  
"Do you really think you're ready to visit him?"  
  
"I want to see him. He needs me."  
  
"I know you want to see him. But are you ready? That's what I'm asking you."  
  
"I want to see him."  
  
"Okay, Murdock. Let's do some visualizing. Okay? Now, you're going to visit him."  
  
Murdock slumped a little further down in his chair. He didn't like "visualizing". It always made things feel real. Which, of course, was the purpose.  
  
"Murdock?"  
  
"Okay!"  
  
"All right." Richter made his voice slow, calm, neutral. "You walk up to the door. Step inside. Face is sitting in the chair."  
  
Murdock nodded, staring at the wall over Richter's head.  
  
"What's the first thing you do?"  
  
"Hug him."  
  
"Is it? Is it the very first thing you do?" Richter's voice was low, almost crooning.  
  
Murdock closed his eyes.  
  
"What's the very first thing you do?"  
  
Murdock swallowed. He saw it, in his mind's eye. He stepped through the door and looked into the room. Saw Face sitting in the chair.  
  
"I look at his face..."  
  
"Okay. And what do you see?"  
  
"Bandages."  
  
"That's all?"  
  
"That's all."  
  
"What's behind the bandages, Murdock? Look behind them. What do you see?"  
  
"I can't see through bandages, Doc, c'mon..."  
  
"You know what's behind them. You're thinking of what's behind them. Aren't you?"  
  
Murdock swallowed. "Yeah..."  
  
"What do you see, Murdock? What are you thinking when you see Face, covered in bandages?"  
  
Murdock opened his eyes, looked up at the ceiling, blinked hard.  
  
"What do you see, Murdock?"  
  
"Scars..."  
  
"Scars. And what else?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Nothing else? Nothing at all?"  
  
"No."  
  
"What does his nose look like, Murdock? It was broken, wasn't it?"  
  
"Yeah. It...just looks a little crooked. Just a little. That's all."  
  
"And his mouth?"  
  
"Looks like a mouth." Murdock sounded angry.  
  
"His mouth and jaw were injured pretty badly, weren't they?"  
  
"Okay! Okay, so it looks...crooked."  
  
Richter looked at Murdock. Murdock was now looking down at his jacket, fiddling with the zipper.  
  
"What else do you see, Murdock?"  
  
"That's it."  
  
"What about the eye, Murdock?"  
  
"What about it? It's just an eye."  
  
"Not that one, Murdock. Not the one he has. The one he lost."  
  
Murdock squirmed in his seat.  
  
"What about it, Murdock? What do you think when you look at that?"  
  
"Crooked..." He stared at the cuff of his jacket.  
  
"Murdock?"  
  
"Crooked...crooked man...was a crooked man...had a crooked smile...," he said to his pocket.  
  
"Murdock..."  
  
"...bought a crooked cat who caught a crooked mouse..." he murmured to his sleeve.  
  
"Murdock."  
  
"...all lived together in a little crooked house...," he whispered to his shoes.  
  
Richter sighed.  
  
"I think that's all for now, Murdock. We'll talk again later. Okay?"  
  
Murdock just nodded and walked quickly out of the room.  
  
*****  
  
He softly closed the door, hoping they hadn't noticed him. He stepped toward the bed, only to bump into the bureau to his left. His already-bruised hip sent a shiver of pain up his back.  
  
Damn. He could not get used to that blind spot. He wanted to rip that dressing off and see what the hell was beside him, see how far things were from him. See clearly. The futility of pulling it off only frustrated him more. He took a deep breath, steadied himself.  
  
Moving more carefully, he continued over to his bed and sat gingerly on the edge. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop; he'd already decided he should make an appearance before Hannibal forced the issue. He'd been moving down the hall when they started arguing.  
  
About him.  
  
He'd made an about-turn, trying not to listen, just wanting to get back to his room before he was noticed.  
  
And then BA...  
  
He looked idly around the room. He hadn't really looked at it before. His vision was still a little blurry. The doctor said that would get better...  
  
He hadn't noticed that little corner shelf before.  
  
A shiver went through him.  
  
"... he'd be better off..."  
  
Wooden. A wooden shelf. He wondered if it was handmade. Kinda looked like something Murdock would make in his crafts class.  
  
"...better off..."  
  
Another shiver. More like a shudder.  
  
He wondered where Murdock was. Why he hadn't come to visit...maybe he didn't want to...  
  
It was kind of a pretty shelf. Wooden. Stained wood. Scrolled stained wood.  
  
"...better off..."  
  
The knock at the door was soft, but it startled him anyway. He'd barely gotten his breath back when Hannibal opened the door.  
  
"Can I come in?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
Hannibal stepped in, leaned against the bureau, staring at him. Thinking.  
  
Great.  
  
"He didn't mean it the way it sounded, you know. You do know that, right?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"It's no excuse, but everybody's been under pressure. Worried about you. I should've known a blow-up was coming; I'm sorry it happened the way it did."  
  
Face nodded, looking at the carpet. Kind of a rose color.  
  
"Look, kid, we've gotten off to a hell of a start here, but we're going to get through this. I don't ever want you to worry about...anything. We'll take care of you; that's what this team does."  
  
Face swallowed, nodded.  
  
Hannibal waited for a moment, as if wanting more of a response. When Face just kept looking at the carpet, he sighed.  
  
"Okay, well, I'm going to get your lunch ready. You must be hungry. Been a long morning..."  
  
Hannibal waited another moment before exiting, softly closing the door behind him.  
  
Face continued to stare at the carpet.  
  
He didn't want to be taken care of...


	7. Chapter 7

"Tem..."  
  
He heard Hannibal try opening the door.  
  
"Tem! Open the door."  
  
"Go away, Hannibal. Please."  
  
"Unlock the door and then I'll go away."  
  
Liar.  
  
"Open the door, Lieutenant. Now."  
  
"I'm not your lieutenant any more, Hannibal." He knew no one heard his whisper. But it was true.  
  
"You open it, or BA will. Your choice."  
  
He moved to the door. Leaned against it as he spoke.  
  
"I'm not going to do anything, Hannibal. I just want to think. I need to think."  
  
He heard BA's voice. Couldn't make out the words.  
  
"Okay, Tem. We'll leave you alone. For now. But lunch is at 1200 hours sharp. That door better be open then."  
  
"Sure, Hannibal."  
  
Sure.  
  
*****  
  
"So?" BA looked at Hannibal across the kitchen table. His head had been pounding badly when he arrived, and it was only getting worse. He couldn't be sure if convincing Hannibal to let Face have some time alone was for Face, or because he himself couldn't deal with any more that morning.  
  
"So, I'm glad his meds are out here and not in his room." Hannibal smiled sourly.  
  
"I don't think he's thinkin that way, Hannibal. I think he's just tryin to sort things out." BA absently tapped the table. "Maybe we oughta get the two of them together. Might be the best for both of them."  
  
"Oh, yeah. End up with both of them on the funny farm. We're close enough to that already."  
  
"I don't think so. Maybe not seein each other, just havin to imagine what the other is like, might be worse. Least if they met, they'd know. Y'know?"  
  
Hannibal closed his eyes. BA was probably right, but he knew he couldn't make that decision. They were in way over their heads.  
  
"I'll talk to Richter about it. See what he says. But it won't happen right away. He's got to go back into the hospital next week for some more work. The doc said he'll look a little better after that. Then we'll see."  
  
"Until then?"  
  
"Until then we stick to the plan." He glanced down the hall toward the locked door. "And after lunch, you take that damn lock off his door..."  
  
*****  
  
BA was packing up the rest of his stuff, preparing to move into the apartment with Hannibal and Face. Normally they preferred to have separate places, to lessen the chance of them all being captured. BA would have kept to that practice, but Hannibal insisted. Face needed them all together.  
  
BA wasn't so sure of that.  
  
At exactly noon, Hannibal had headed down to Face's room, BA reluctantly following behind him. The last thing any of them needed was a confrontation. But Face had stepped out just as they reached his door. He hadn't said anything, just stood there, waiting, looking down and off to the side. Hannibal had watched him for a minute, like he was waiting for an apology or explanation. When nothing happened, he'd just said lunch was ready and walked back to the kitchen. Face had immediately followed him, leaving BA standing in the hallway.  
  
The rest of the day, Face had done whatever Hannibal asked him to. Hannibal took it to mean Face had spent the morning coming to terms with himself, and had decided that he needed to follow Hannibal's protocol to get on the road to recovery. BA wasn't so sure.  
  
Face would always do what Hannibal wanted. Eventually. But he rarely did it without at least a token argument, or exactly the way Hannibal wanted it done. He always had to throw in a little Jazz of his own. Submissive was not a word BA thought Face even knew.  
  
But that afternoon, that's exactly what Face was. Submissive. Not just submissive, either. It was like he wanted someone to take charge of him. That he wanted to be told what to do, when to do it. Like he didn't want any responsibility for himself at all.  
  
Hannibal had accepted it. But BA couldn't. That wasn't Face.  
  
The only time he'd shown any interest at all was when Hannibal was going through his hospital appointments. Then he'd wanted to know exactly what procedure was going to be done and when and why. BA hadn't thought he'd paid much attention to the doctors the day of his release; he was all attention today. And BA didn't like that either, for some reason. Maybe because it didn't seem like Face was planning his future.  
  
More like he was trying to fit Hannibal's schedule into one of his own.  
  
BA shook his head again. Hannibal might be willing to believe in Face's turnaround. BA knew better.  
  
With a final look around his rooms, he sighed and walked out. Face needed them, yeah. But not the way Hannibal thought. Maybe not the way Face thought, either.  
  
*****  
  
He'd spent the last three days thinking. Planning. In minute detail. It served two purposes, really. One, it made sure he wasn't overlooking anything. Second, it kept him from thinking about...things. He wouldn't allow himself to sink into self-pity. Nor would he allow himself to wallow in guilt over the others. He had a plan now. He just had to follow through.  
  
Easier said than done. Especially where Hannibal was concerned.  
  
The afternoon of Face's 'rebellion', Hannibal had had a conference with the three of them. The Colonel thought it was time they talked about the accident, and the...aftermath. Get it all out on the table. Hannibal didn't want any more hiding, any more pretending.  
  
Right.  
  
It had been hard, but he'd done it. Been honest, but not quite. He couldn't be. He didn't dare let everything out. There were things he'd been thinking and feeling that he couldn't re-visit. The thoughts that crept in at night, before the artificial sleep hit him. The fear and the anger and the frustration that made him want to lash out at everyone and everything.  
  
He wouldn't go there.  
  
Instead, he convinced them that yes, he had felt all those things, but that was over now. Now he just wanted to move on.  
  
No use crying over spilled milk, right?  
  
At first, they hadn't accepted it, but Face used all his talents. His looks may have been destroyed, but inside he was still the Faceman, Conman Extraordinaire. There were tricks he knew that he'd never used on the team before. It wouldn't have been fair. But now...  
  
What was it they said? All's fair...  
  
He'd gotten through the conference finally. Hannibal was satisfied. He wasn't sure about BA. Something about the way he kept looking at Face said he wasn't buying it. Not completely. Well, it didn't matter. BA could have all the doubts he wanted. As long as he didn't act on them.  
  
Then Hannibal had asked him if he wanted to see what he looked like. Hannibal thought he should, that he needed to. Face refused. Flatly. He didn't want to and didn't need to. That, at least, was the truth.  
  
Why would anyone want to look at that?  
  
Even BA accepted his words this time. If Face wasn't ready for it yet, no problem. After the next set of operations, then, maybe...  
  
That's what he was thinking about now. They were supposed to leave for the hospital in a few minutes. He'd be there for four or five days. They were going to do some more repair work on that nerve, the one that made the left side of his face look like it had melted. But it could still take months before it was healed enough to make him look semi-normal.  
  
And they were going to give him a patch to replace the dressing over his eye. They couldn't do anything else yet. Not until they fixed the bones around it. He'd checked Hannibal's calendar. Another three, maybe four operations.  
  
He wondered what he would look like when they were all through. Shook his head.  
  
Like it mattered.  
  
"Ready, Tem?" Hannibal stood in the doorway, Face's bag in hand. BA was waiting in the car. Face nodded and walked ahead of Hannibal to the front door.  
  
And that's when he realized his plan wasn't going to go as smoothly as he'd hoped.  
  
He couldn't step outside.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal almost ran into him, so abruptly did Face stop in the doorway. Like he'd turned to stone.  
  
"Tem? What's the matter?"  
  
Face didn't answer. Just started shaking his head and backing up.  
  
"Tem?"  
  
"I can't." He threw a quick glance up at Hannibal before looking down at the ground again.  
  
"Hey, don't worry. It's just the car. No van. Okay?"  
  
"No. I can't. I can't go out there." He turned as if he was going back to his room.  
  
Hannibal stepped in front of him. "You can do this, Tem. I'll be right there with you. So will BA. Nothing's going to happen."  
  
"They'll look." He swallowed hard. "They'll see."  
  
Hannibal stepped back a bit. Sighed. So much for Face's declarations that he was 'okay'. It was one thing when he was in here, safe. Where there were only people who accepted him, regardless. Out there were people who wouldn't understand. Who would stare. Who would bring it all home to him again.  
  
So now what? They couldn't just let him hide forever. And he had to go to the hospital.  
  
"Wait right here. Don't move. Understand, Lieutenant?"  
  
Face just nodded. Hannibal hurried to his own room.  
  
By the time he got back, BA was standing in the door, questions all over his face. Hannibal just held up his finger for him to wait. Reaching down, he gently raised Face's head so he was looking at him. He forced himself not to look at the eye. Carefully, he settled a pair of sunglasses on Face. Then, just as carefully, he put a hat on him. It was a little big, but not too much. Just enough so it settled down a bit lower than normal. Finally he adjusted the collar of Face's jacket so it was up around his neck.  
  
It didn't hide everything, but enough.  
  
"Hollywood Incognito. Okay, kid?" He smiled at him, encouraging.  
  
Face nodded. Hannibal thought he could see his right eye blinking fast.  
  
There was a moment's hesitation at the door, then the three of them headed out to the car, BA and Hannibal protectively flanking Face. They entered the hospital the same way.


	8. Chapter 8

BA showed up at the apartment early the next day. He looked like hell, and felt worse.  
  
After his rush from the apartment the day before, he'd driven around for hours. He'd eventually found his way to the VA. For some reason, he wanted to see Murdock. Maybe hoping the pilot would be more like himself, maybe hoping it would give him a glimpse of normalcy, crazy as that seemed. But after working his way through the grounds to Murdock's open window, he knew it wasn't going to work. BA heard him before he saw him. A low staccato of monotone words.  
  
"Crooked man, crooked man..."  
  
Looking through the window, he saw Murdock sitting cross-legged on the bed, the tips of his fingers pressed tightly together. He was concentrating hard on flexing his fingers, tenting and untenting them, in time to his words. BA swallowed, and rapped lightly on the window frame.  
  
"Hey, Murdock!"  
  
Murdock looked up, staring puzzled at the window. A moment later he bounded over, a big grin on his face.  
  
"Hey, Big Guy! Did you come to break me out? We gonna go see Face?"  
  
For a moment, BA thought that would be the best thing for all of them - get everybody together again. Be a team again.  
  
Then he looked harder at Murdock. Something not quite right in those eyes. Something not quite Murdock.  
  
"No, Murdock, not today. Soon, though, okay?"  
  
Murdock immediately lost interest. He wandered back to the bed, where he sat, cross-legged, and steepled his fingers once again.  
  
"Soon, soon, soon..."  
  
BA left without another word.  
  
He drove over to a friend's house, where he could use their garage. He parked the sedan, popped the hood, got out his tools. The engine ran rough, and didn't have the power he wanted. There was a lot of work to be done.  
  
He stood looking at the engine for a long time before he tossed his tools back in the trunk and softly closed the hood.  
  
And then BA did something he hadn't done since Nam.  
  
He went to a bar, and stayed there until closing.  
  
*****  
  
"You look like hell."  
  
Hannibal tried not to sound stern or angry. The last thing he wanted was another argument. He must have been successful, because he only got BA's normal glare before moving past him and heading toward the kitchen. Hannibal watched after him, preparing himself.  
  
Long into the night, Hannibal had thought about their whole situation. He would have to make amends to BA. Both had said things they shouldn't have; both had been right, partly. It was obvious to Hannibal that BA had had a hard night; if he didn't know better, he'd swear BA had a hangover. Well, he wouldn't have another hard night because of Hannibal. Time to start fresh. With just the two of them left, they had to work together.  
  
He knew there was nothing they could do about Murdock; that would have to remain Dr. Richter's bailiwick. Whatever the doctor said was law. And right now, like it or not, that meant keeping Murdock away from Face and any mention of him.  
  
As to Face, Hannibal had made some decisions there, too. Yesterday being the disaster it had been, he'd accepted Face's plea of a headache, and let him 'sleep' most of the day. They'd both eaten by themselves, and the only real contact they'd had was when Hannibal would go in to give him his meds. He'd actually let Face sleep in his clothes last night, rather than disturb him.  
  
That ended this morning. By the time the sun was coming up, Hannibal had a plan.  
  
He'd gone over all the notes from the doctors and therapists, the list of medications, the schedule of appointments, the timeframes the doctors had given them for future surgery. It was the first time he had actually read through everything together, and the first time he'd laid the timetables out on paper. It had shocked and angered him. The number of operations Face would have to endure was intimidating; the fact that the entire process could last over a year disheartening. And in the end, there were no guarantees.  
  
And no way he would ever look the same.  
  
Hannibal had allowed himself to wallow in pity - for Face, for himself, for the team - for only a short while. It wasn't productive. What he needed was a plan, a structure, to get them all through the next months. Hopefully, they would still be together in the end.  
  
And that's what counted.  
  
Hannibal followed BA into the kitchen and saw him looking at the carefully constructed charts. Everything laid out in black and white. Right down to the daily schedule for meds, meals, exercise. What Hannibal would do, what BA would do. Everything done with regimental precision.  
  
A plan that would work.  
  
BA looked up as Hannibal came in. Looked at him for a long time before he finally spoke.  
  
" 'Bout time."  
  
*****  
  
Face sat on the patio, sipping his breakfast through a straw. Nutritious it might be, but absolutely tasteless. If it had mattered, he would have said something to Hannibal about spices. It kept him from feeling hungry, and that was all that was necessary.  
  
He knew Hannibal had been up most of the night; obviously he'd come up with a plan. Early that morning, he'd come into Face's room, overly cheerful, declaring it a beautiful day. When Face hadn't moved, Hannibal announced it was time to get up and his tone left no room for arguing. He had Face's clothes picked out before Face was even fully awake. Face had actually had to act angry before Hannibal would let him clean up on his own. It grated that he'd then had to have Hannibal help him get dressed. The next thing he knew, he was sitting on the patio, with his breakfast sitting in a glass beside him, with orders from Hannibal to drink every bit of it. It was as though Hannibal couldn't decide if he was commander or mother, treating Face like a soldier and a child at the same time.  
  
He heard the front door open and close, and voices a few minutes later from the kitchen. He knew who it was. He waited, wondering if BA would stay or go, if there would be another argument, if BA would bother to talk to him today.  
  
BA came up on his blind side. Face was tempted to turn and look, but knowing such movements usually made him dizzier than a bedbug, he didn't. Besides, he knew what BA was looking at. It's what they all looked at first, however briefly.  
  
"Morning, BA."  
  
"Mornin, Tem."  
  
Tem. Well, they'd gotten past the hesitancy on that now, at least. Trying to spare his feelings. Whatever.  
  
BA had moved around to stand in front of him now. Face would have to look up to see him. He didn't like to do that. It had already become habit to keep his head down.  
  
"Uh, listen, about yesterday..."  
  
"I'm sorry about the van, BA. You should've kept it."  
  
"Huh? Oh, hey man, I...I had to dump it. I mean, it was wrecked. Jus wouldn't run right, y'know?"  
  
Sure.  
  
"But, look, I just wanted to say..."  
  
"Have you seen Murdock?"  
  
BA moved restlessly. Didn't say anything at first.  
  
"Is he okay?"  
  
"Sure, he's okay. He's at the VA. He's okay."  
  
Face didn't like the tone of BA's voice.  
  
"He is?"  
  
"Yeah, sure he is. Look, about what I said..."  
  
"He hasn't come to visit. I wondered."  
  
BA sighed, and sat in the chair across from him. Face set his glass down carefully; sometimes his hand shook a little from all the dope Hannibal was shooting into him. He glanced up at BA, who was scowling at the table.  
  
Great. Now he thought Face was being difficult.  
  
"He wanted to come. But, okay, so he's not okay. But it's nothin he can't handle. The doc's working with him, so..."  
  
"The acc...crash? That's why?"  
  
"Well, yeah."  
  
Face got up stiffly and, without another word, walked into the apartment, down the hall and into his room. He stood with his back against the door.  
  
BA's van.  
  
Murdock's mind.  
  
Hannibal...  
  
He knew Hannibal would be coming shortly. Not only because he'd planned on going over the charts and memos and schedules with Face this morning, but also because BA would be telling him what had happened on the patio. No way Hannibal would let Face 'hide' in here.  
  
He turned carefully and locked the door. Hannibal would have to live without his schedules for one more day.  
  
Face had plans of his own to think about.


	9. Chapter 9

The room came slowly into view. Not quite focused. White ceiling. Cream walls. A window to his left. Two doors to the right. Familiar looking machines beside the bed.  
  
It was over.  
  
Gingerly, he raised his hand up to his face. Felt slowly, carefully. No bandages; a small tube near his ear; a thin patch of some kind over his left eye. He could feel the lumps where the sutures had been. Where the scars would be. Felt along his mouth. Sighed. That side of his mouth, and that side of his face, still drooped. He'd had hopes, even though they had told him it would take time.  
  
A nurse came strutting in, giving him a quick glance before mechanically checking his vitals. She checked the IV and the monitor and was gone.  
  
So much for the old Peck charm.  
  
He felt cold and reached down for the blanket. He couldn't quite get it without sitting up, and he knew better than to try that. And no way he was going to push the call button and get the Ice Princess back in here. He sighed, closed his eye and tried to go back to sleep.  
  
When he awoke the next time, the sun was going down and Hannibal and BA were sitting on either side of his bed. The blankets were pulled up and tucked around his shoulders.  
  
"About time you woke up. I thought we'd have to throw some cold water on you." Hannibal grinned at him.  
  
"You warm enough, man? You was shiverin when we come in. Tol that nurse what I thought bout that." BA scowled toward the door.  
  
"The Ice Princess?" He frowned. For some reason, their voices seemed muffled, and his mouth didn't seem to work much at all, slurring his words worse than before. "What...?"  
  
"Don't worry, Tem. It's just from the surgery. Things are a bit swollen yet. Give it a day or so and things will be okay again." Hannibal smiled at him, reassuring.  
  
He nodded, closed his eye again. He didn't feel like talking anyway. He really just wanted to sleep.  
  
Forever.  
  
*****  
  
BA was keeping late night watch that night. Hannibal didn't want Face to wake up alone, and BA had agreed, although for very different reasons. For Hannibal, it was because Face wasn't in the ICU and he didn't think the personnel in this unit were paying close enough attention to his needs. BA almost smiled at that, but that was Hannibal. He'd been like that in Nam, too. If one of his men was hurt, he was like a mama bear protecting her cubs.  
  
God forbid anyone call him on it, either.  
  
But BA had a different reason for wanting to stay. He was hoping for some time alone with Face, some time without Hannibal there to run interference. He didn't think Face would wake up during the night, but he knew he'd have time with him first thing in the morning. It meant a long, uncomfortable night in a hard, uncomfortable chair, but it was necessary.  
  
He was going to find out what Face was really thinking if it was the last thing he did.  
  
The Ice Princess, as Face had dubbed her, had been in and out of the room throughout the day, rarely saying anything other than "excuse me" when they were in her way. Both Hannibal and BA kept an eye on her, especially when she was by herself at the desk. She was exactly the kind of person who, if she recognized them, would feel it her civic duty to turn them in. They both sighed with some relief when she went off duty at seven, but as Hannibal left later that night, he reminded BA to be careful.  
  
The night nurse was a little more friendly, and Face seemed to like her a bit better. But then again, he was sleeping most of the time. BA had tried to talk to him a bit when he was awake, but Face wasn't inclined to talk. Spent a lot of time staring out the window, or at the ceiling. BA didn't like it, not one bit.  
  
Eventually, after he had had his liquid supper and the nurse had doped him up for the night, Face drifted off into a deep sleep and BA relaxed a little. He dozed off and on in the chair, waking immediately whenever anyone passed by in the hall or when the nurse came into check on things. He wasn't sure what he would do if the MP's suddenly showed up, but he knew it would cost them to take Face.  
  
It was around two in the morning when BA woke with a start. Face was mumbling in his bed, moving restlessly under the covers. BA stood and moved quickly to his side.  
  
"Tem? Hey, wake up, man, you havin a dream. Wake up." BA's urgent whispers went unheeded; Face was too caught up in the nightmare. BA leaned down closer, hoping to hear what he was mumbling.  
  
"Mur..."  
  
"What is it, Tem? What you sayin?"  
  
"Murdock...Mur..."  
  
BA straightened. Looked down at Face, who was finally starting to quiet down, although he was still restless. He stepped to the door and looked up and down the hall. Except for the nurses' occasional excursions into the various rooms, it was pretty much empty. And, unlike the ICU, the nurses couldn't see Face's door unless they came out from behind the desk.  
  
BA moved back over to the bed, decision made.  
  
"You rest easy, Tem. You gonna see Murdock. And about time, too." He gently squeezed Face's shoulder.  
  
He slipped quietly out of the room and down the hall, to the exit furthest from the nurses' station.  
  
Back in the room, the dim lights barely revealed Face's crooked smile.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock woke abruptly, looking quickly around the room while being careful not to move. Listening.  
  
There. There it was again.  
  
He waited for a moment, thinking. It could be a hallucination. He'd been having more than his share of those lately. Mostly self-induced, he had to admit. But what else was he supposed to do? Sit around, thinking about Face, wondering if he was all right, wondering how badly he'd been hurt, wondering what he looked like and...well, wasn't it much better to hallucinate and have Face here with him, whole and healthy and smiling again? And he considered himself lucky that he was able to make it real.  
  
Okay, so Richter wasn't real happy about it, but that was his problem.  
  
Besides, he and Face had had so much fun together. Playing with Billy, cheating each other at cards. Murdock even feigned interest in Face's latest tales of his love life. Now, why on earth would he want to stop hallucinating under those circumstances?  
  
Talk about crazy...  
  
"Murdock! Wake up, fool!"  
  
Oops! He knew that voice. And that was no hallucination. He leaped out of bed and hurried to the window. It must be something important for BA to come here in the middle of the night.  
  
Oh, God.  
  
Face...  
  
His hands were shaking so badly he could barely get the window open. He grabbed BA's jaws in both hands.  
  
"What happened to Face? What? He didn't...he isn't...he hasn't...?"  
  
"Damn it, Murdock, let go o' me!" BA roughly pulled Murdock off him and shoved him back from the window. A moment later he was inside, holding Murdock at arm's length.  
  
"Now shut up and listen!"  
  
"Okay, okay, BA, okay..."  
  
BA put his hand over Murdock's mouth and glared at him. "You gonna listen or keep jibber-jabberin?"  
  
Murdock nodded his head, then shook it, then became totally still.  
  
BA took his hand away from Murdock's mouth. "Okay. Now, Tem is in the hospital. He's okay, he jus had another operation on his face."  
  
"Tem?"  
  
"Yeah, Tem. And you remember that!"  
  
Murdock nodded his head quickly.  
  
"He's been wantin to see you, but Hannibal and Richter didn't think that was good. But he had a nightmare tonight about you, and I figure enough's enough. So I'm gonna take you over to see him." BA moved close to Murdock, still holding his arm. "But you listen, Murdock. You pull any o' that crazy stuff while you there, and I'll drag your ass right out o' there. Got it?"  
  
Again, Murdock nodded.  
  
"Now, he ain't gonna look the greatest. But that don't matter, right? You ain't gonna fall apart when you see him. Got it?"  
  
Nod.  
  
A little gentler, BA continued. "He's gonna be okay, Murdock. He just ain't gonna be as pretty as he was. I just want you two to see each other, cause you worry about him and he worries about you. So you see each other and put your minds to rest, okay? And then both of ya gotta work at gettin better so we get the team back together again. Okay?"  
  
Murdock cleared his throat softly. "Okay, BA. Gotcha."  
  
BA glared at him one more time before turning and climbing back through the window. Murdock grabbed his jacket and cap and followed quickly and silently behind him.


	10. Chapter 10

He was trying desperately to stay awake. One of those things he still wasn't used to, and hadn't considered in his planning - getting medicated through a hypo stuck in his arm or squirted into his mouth. Hard to palm a hypo. It screwed up his plans, royally. He had to be awake, alert, thinking, when BA got back with Murdock. He had to do this just right or it would also screw up Murdock royally.  
  
He absently reached up and started to rub the patch over his left eye and immediately jerked his hand away. A shudder ran through him. He may have fooled Hannibal, and at least gotten past BA for now, but he couldn't fool himself.  
  
He hadn't looked in a mirror since that first time. Wouldn't even look at a window if he could see his reflection in it. It wasn't just vanity. It wasn't just an assault on his face, on his looks. This went far beyond that. It was so much, much more.  
  
He shifted in the bed, trying to get comfortable without getting too comfortable. He wished BA and Murdock would get back. He knew his thinking was getting cloudy again. Otherwise his thoughts wouldn't be going anywhere near the accident. But it was hard, waiting in the near dark, with no one around that he knew. He tried to switch his thoughts to Murdock, to the talk they were going to have, but it rounded back on him, every time.  
  
Face. Faceman. His name. More than just a moniker. It was who he was. All he was. At the orphanage, he'd been the favorite when people would come on visiting day. Visiting day. More like auction day. Parading the kids around the place like monkeys in a circus. The parent wannabe's always came to him. Always. And they'd start talking to him, asking questions, trying to find out what he liked, what he was like.  
  
And he always blew it.  
  
He'd lose his tongue completely, or just stammer and blush. A couple of times he literally turned and ran. The priests and the nuns had worked so hard, trying to overcome the near-paralyzing shyness, and nothing worked. And finally, he was too old. The visitors would glance his way and turn to the younger kids. He was about to start junior high when he realized what that damn shyness had cost him.  
  
Every morning, he would look in the mirror and think, "How would someone who looks like that, act?" Charming, confident, out-going...someone totally the opposite of who he really was. Someone he wanted to be. So he pretended. Pretended until it became almost real. He even picked out a new name for the kid in the mirror. Templeton Peck. Alvin Brenner was left in the orphanage. It was Templeton Peck who stepped onto the bus for school every morning. And whenever he started getting nervous, or wanted to pull back, he'd remind himself that Templeton Peck just wouldn't do that. No way.  
  
People liked Templeton Peck. They really liked him. Admired him. Girls fell for him like rain. He had everything he wanted.  
  
Until Leslie.  
  
He hadn't been acting with Leslie. She was the first person in a long time who saw who he really was. And she left him. Templeton Peck would have handled it better. Templeton Peck would have decided it was her loss. Templeton Peck would have gone on with his life, found new loves, had a happy life.  
  
But it was Alvin Brenner who fell in love with her, not Templeton Peck. It was Alvin who joined the army. And Alvin had stayed, until he saw Hannibal in action. Until he wanted on Hannibal's team.  
  
Until he became Face.  
  
He slid further down in the bed. He was so tired. So tired. He was drifting off, despite himself.  
  
Hannibal would never have put Alvin Brenner on the team...  
  
*****  
  
"BA?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Can I ask you something?"  
  
"If it ain't no crazy talk, yeah."  
  
Murdock adjusted his cap, looked out the window at the dark streets passing by. It was a long drive from the VA to the hospital Face was in. They were maybe halfway there and neither of them had yet to say a word. He looked over at BA from under his visor.  
  
"Why are you doing this, BA? Doc said I wasn't s'posed to see him. So did Hannibal. You don't ever buck Hannibal."  
  
"Richter don't know everything. And Hannibal ain't thinkin straight."  
  
"He sounds okay when he calls."  
  
"Yeah, well, he can scam as well as Tem, sometimes."  
  
Murdock didn't say anything for a few more minutes. BA glanced over at him. He was beginning to wonder if this really was the best thing to do.  
  
"Does he like that?"  
  
"What? Who?"  
  
"Face. Does he like being called 'Tem'?"  
  
BA glanced at him again. "He ain't said."  
  
"Have you asked him?"  
  
"No. How we s'posed to do that? Geez, Murdock..."  
  
There was no further conversation until they reached the hospital. BA warned Murdock again to behave himself. The staff had given him enough grief about staying overnight. If they caught him sneaking yet another person in, there'd be hell to pay. From all sides.  
  
BA made Murdock wait in the stairwell until he checked Face's room. He was almost to the door when the night nurse stepped out.  
  
"Oh, there you are. We thought you'd decided to go home after all."  
  
"No, I just stepped out for some air. He okay?"  
  
"Yes, he's fine. Sleeping like a baby." There was a note of warning there.  
  
BA forced himself to be nice. "I'll be quiet." He couldn't quite bring himself to smile at her.  
  
With a further warning look, the nurse headed back to the desk. BA stepped inside the room, watching out the door until he saw her sit down, hiding her view of the hallway. With a quick gesture, he signaled Murdock to come out.  
  
Murdock sprinted silently down the hall and slipped into the room. BA closed the door and turned to see him moving slowly toward the bed. The pilot stopped a couple feet from the bed. His shoulders slumped. BA came up behind him, squeezed his shoulder.  
  
"Remember. No crazy stuff."  
  
Murdock nodded, still staring at Face. BA hesitated for another moment. He still had time to call it off, at least as far as Face was concerned. Murdock had seen Face; BA could take him back and let him work through it with Richter. But then, that wouldn't really be fair to Face.  
  
"Okay, go ahead and wake him up. But be careful." BA stepped to the door. "I'll keep an eye on the nurse. If she heads this way, you hide. Got it?"  
  
Murdock nodded again and moved closer to the bed. BA scowled, shook his head, and opened the door just enough to see the desk. Hannibal would prob'ly kill him for this...  
  
*****  
  
Murdock reached out to touch Face's shoulder. He stopped, inches away. He didn't want to touch him, didn't want to look at him. He heard a thrumming noise back in the depths of his head.  
  
"Crooked man, crooked smiled, crooked house..."  
  
No no no. He didn't want to think what BA would do if he went off on a tangent now. The big guy had taken a huge chance, bringing him here. If Hannibal or Richter found out...  
  
He laid his hand gently on Face's shoulder, felt the warmth through the blanket. It surprised him, somehow. He'd been expecting it to be cold. Like a corpse.  
  
"Face..."  
  
He winced. Damn. BA would knock the shit out of him if he'd heard.  
  
"Tem...wake up, muchacho. It's Murdock."  
  
It took a moment before he saw the one blue eye open slowly, unfocused at first, and then locking on him.  
  
"Murdock..."  
  
Murdock frowned. Face's voice was so hoarse. He turned quickly toward the door.  
  
"BA! What's the matter with him?"  
  
BA hurried over. "What? What's wrong?"  
  
"His voice! That's not his voice!" Murdock felt panic rising.  
  
"Murdock..." Face was vainly trying to get his attention.  
  
"See! See! That's not Face! That's not..."  
  
"Shut up, fool! 'Course that's him. He just hoarse cause of that tube he had." BA grabbed his arm. "Listen, you get straight now, hear me? Just shut up and listen to the man. He can't talk for long, so you just shut up and listen!" BA glared at him one more time before going back to his watch at the door.  
  
"Murdock..."  
  
He turned back to Face, breathing hard, but trying to control it. Half of him wanted to believe that everything was going to be okay; the other half didn't want to believe that this person was his Face.  
  
"Yeah, Fa...Tem. I'm listening."  
  
"You're not doing so well, huh?"  
  
Murdock looked at the guardrail, suddenly ashamed. "No, not really."  
  
"Murdock, listen. You have to work with Richter. I can't do this if I have to worry about you, too. Understand?"  
  
"I know. It's just...I..."  
  
"I know. But I have to know you're going to work this through. I can't bear to think you might end up like you used to be."  
  
Murdock looked into the corner of the room. He couldn't look at Face.  
  
"Listen. Listen! When we go after the bad guys, you know any one of us could get killed, right?"  
  
"Right."  
  
"And you were ready for that, right?"  
  
"Yeah. We all were."  
  
"Right. If we hadn't accepted it, if we didn't know that we'd all accepted it, do you think we could have done the things we did?"  
  
Murdock looked at Face. Saw how serious he was.  
  
"No. Someone would have held back. Maybe everyone."  
  
"Exactly. And holding back at the wrong time could've gotten us all killed."  
  
Murdock nodded. He saw where Face was going. He didn't like it.  
  
"This isn't just for me, Murdock. Hannibal and BA need you. They need to know you're going to be there, and that you're not going to fall apart when they need you. Listen, Murdock. No matter what happens to me, to any of us, the rest of you have to hold together. Otherwise, none of you is going to make it."  
  
Murdock didn't say anything. He couldn't.  
  
"Murdock, you have to work with Richter. You have to get through this and get back with the team. We can't do it without you." Face's grasp on his hand tightened. "I can't do this if I don't know you're going to be okay."  
  
Murdock took a couple of deep breaths before he could answer. "I don't know if I can. You know I don't do reality very well."  
  
Face chuckled softly. "I know you do it better than people think." He pulled on Murdock's hand, made him look at him. "Please, Murdock. Don't do it just for me. Or even for you. Do it for the team. Please."  
  
Murdock knew Face was near the end of his rope. His voice was getting more and more hoarse, and he was starting to sweat.  
  
"Okay, Tem. Okay. I'll try. I can't promise. Sometimes the purple wobblies, you know, they don't like to give up. But I'll try. I'll try really hard."  
  
Face visibly relaxed. "Thanks, Murdock. Now I can do what I have to do, too." He smiled up at Murdock, clearly exhausted, but satisfied.  
  
Five minutes later, BA and Murdock were hurrying back to the VA.  
  
And Face slept, knowing his plan was coming together.


	11. Chapter 11

He sat in the car, staring at the ocean in the distance. It was almost time. He glanced apprehensively at the two other cars. Tourists, or late night party-goers, catching some sleep before moving on. He thought about hitting the horn, waking them up, but that might mean a confrontation. No way. All he could do was stare at the cars, willing them to leave. He couldn't do this with an audience.  
  
Just over a month ago, he'd been released from the hospital for the second time. Before leaving, a cosmetologist who worked for the plastic surgeon had stopped in. She had spent what seemed like hours showing him how to use makeup to help hide the scars. Hannibal and BA had been there, and watched everything, seemingly fascinated and deadly serious. When she stepped back from her handiwork, she smiled brightly and proclaimed him "The Pirate Prince".  
  
In his opinion, the woman needed serious empathy training. Either that or her jaws wired. He preferred the latter. He hadn't worn the makeup since, despite the cajoling from his teammates. There was really no reason to, since he never left the apartment. Never.  
  
It had become a very big problem for all of them.  
  
Both Hannibal and BA had been very patient and understanding, at first. They hadn't forgotten the panic when they left for the hospital and were prepared for it when he was released. Fortunately, he was so eager to get out of the hospital and get back to the apartment, it wasn't as much of a problem. A few days later, Hannibal had tried to get him to take a walk in the park a couple blocks away. It had been early morning, with very few people out and about.  
  
He'd gotten as far as the patio before the panic struck. Hannibal had offered to do the Hollywood shtick again, to no avail. The more he coaxed, the more pressure Face felt, the more trapped, and he ended up shoving past Hannibal, practically running back to his room. Hannibal had waited until he'd calmed down and then apologized.  
  
Eventually, though, Hannibal and BA had quit trying to coax him. They lost patience, arguments ensued. Of course, since he had such a difficult time talking, the arguments consisted mainly of their haranguing him about hiding out instead of getting on with his life.  
  
If they only knew how desperately he wanted to get past the panic. He needed to get out. He had to.  
  
He just couldn't.  
  
Unfortunately, it wasn't only his "hiding out" that was causing problems. Neither Hannibal nor BA were used to sitting around, doing nothing. Despite Hannibal's declaration that they would take care of Face, there really wasn't much to take care of. He wanted to be as independent as possible, but it was hard. His depth perception was off, and it seemed like he was always knocking things over; then one of the others would insist on cleaning up the mess. Hannibal and BA were constantly forgetting and coming up on his blind side, startling the hell out of him. Then Face overheard Hannibal turn down a couple of jobs. Jobs they should have taken. Resentments built up on both sides. Mainly they lived together in relative peace, but when arguments occurred, it took longer and longer to smooth ruffled feathers.  
  
The only really positive thing that had happened over that month was Murdock. True to his promise, he was working hard with Dr. Richter. In fact, the doctor reported that Murdock was talking more openly now than he ever had, and he was getting nearer and nearer to what he'd been before the accident.  
  
Hannibal was surprised and elated; BA and Face just looked at each other and smiled. News about Murdock became one of the highlights of their days.  
  
A week ago, he'd had to go back to the hospital's clinic, an ordeal he both looked forward to and dreaded. They would not only be taking the cast off his arm, but removing the hated wires from his jaw. Both more than welcome changes, but he hardly slept the night before, thinking about going outside. Hannibal made a couple late night phone calls, out of his hearing, and Face unknowingly ended up with a heavy dose of tranquilizers that morning. He was back in the apartment before he actually realized he had left.  
  
Face let out a deep breath. Looked at his watch. It was getting late. He looked for the other two cars. One had left, one remained. He shook his head, frustrated. The longer he stayed, the more chance his plan would fail. Hannibal and BA would be waking up any time now. It wouldn't be long after that they would discover he was gone.  
  
He reached over to the passenger seat, nervously adjusting the items lying there. His hand shook. A lot. He tried deep breathing, trying to calm down. He was not going to blow it now. Not after going through all that hell getting here.  
  
It had taken him almost an hour to get out of the house. He'd stood at the front door, grabbing the knob, letting go, grabbing it again. Walking away, pacing. Trying again. Thought about postponing the whole thing until another night. Arguing with himself.  
  
In the end, it was panic overcoming fear. He'd heard BA stirring, mumbling as he wandered down the hall to the bathroom. Face had stood by the front door, paralyzed. What if BA came out to the kitchen? Everything would be ruined.  
  
He heard the door to the bathroom close. He swung the front door open, slipped through and closed it quietly behind him. Stood there, heart racing, glancing quickly around to see if he was observed. All quiet. Moments later he was at the car, picking the lock. It took way too long. Finally, it clicked. He put the car in neutral, pushed with all his might, and practically fell into the driver's seat as the car slid past. He let it glide into the street and swung it around to the curb, hitting it hard. Not giving himself time to think, he fumbled to hotwire the car and then wheeled carefully away.  
  
The place he had chosen wasn't far, thank God. They had passed it on the way to the hospital, and both Hannibal and BA had tried to get him to at least drive there with them. He'd liked the look of the place and had wanted to go...  
  
Well, he was here now. After a slow, nerve-killing drive through the darkness. He'd almost cried in frustration when he'd seen the other two cars there, but he wasn't about to quit now. He would just wait them out. And he had. The second car started up as the sun's corona was lighting the sky behind them. Seconds later, he was alone. Ready.  
  
Hannibal's car was parked where the guys could readily see it when they drove down this way. He wasn't sure which direction they would take first, but eventually they would have to pass by here. They would see it, and they would find what he'd left in it. Eye patch, wallet, keys, a set of clothes. All neatly folded on the passenger seat. He would have no further use of them. They would find the car, see the pile on the seat. They would hurry to the railing and look down to see the ocean crashing wildly against the rocks far below.  
  
And they would finally be able to get on with their lives...


	12. Chapter 12

Hannibal leaned against the railing, watching the waves come in, rolling up against the rocks below.  
  
Three days. Three days had passed since BA had spotted the car. Yesterday the search party had found a battered crucifix, the broken chain caught on a root about halfway down the cliff. But no body. The Coast Guard didn't think they would find one, considering the rocks and the marine life.  
  
Hannibal sighed. He and BA would have to disappear today. They'd been too visible around the authorities as it was. They hadn't been recognized yet, in the turmoil, but he knew their story was starting to fall apart. It wouldn't take too much more and they would be looking at MP uniforms. Their client would let them know if anything turned up; the man had been a godsend through all of this. Hannibal supposed it was guilt and gratitude combined. He wondered how much longer either would last.  
  
He took the cigar from his mouth and raised his arm to toss it over the railing. And then he stopped. He looked at the cigar, and then down at the water. Closing his eyes tightly, he took a deep, slow breath and turned from the railing. He held the cigar butt until he reached the car, and ground it roughly into the ground.  
  
BA didn't look at him, didn't even move until the door shut. Then he silently pulled the car out onto the highway.  
  
They had waited long enough. One more thing left to do before disappearing.  
  
They had to tell Murdock.  
  
*****  
  
"All right, Amy. Thanks. Let me know if he calls again." Hannibal hung up, pulling a cigar from his pocket. It remained unlit in his hand as he contemplated the phone.  
  
"Amy? Somethin wrong?" BA looked up from the couch.  
  
"No, some guy called her, wanting to find and hire us. She told him she didn't know where we were, but he was pretty persistent. I don't know why she bothered to call; she knows we're not taking any cases right now."  
  
"Maybe it's time we did take one, Hannibal. It's been 'most two months now."  
  
"With just the two of us?"  
  
"Three. Murdock ain't that bad any more. He could do it. Mostly."  
  
"Yeah, well, until he can do it totally, we're not dragging him out on a job. The last thing we need is for him to go ballistic out in the field."  
  
BA looked like he was going to argue, but Hannibal abruptly turned and stalked out, moving almost angrily into the kitchen. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he stepped out onto the patio, feeling the cool evening breeze coming around the corner of the building. He looked around the grounds, dissatisfied. They'd been here only a week and already he was feeling the need to move on. He was so tired of...everything.  
  
Maybe BA was right. Maybe they did need to start taking on jobs again. But Murdock...no. No way he was going to take a chance on losing him again. Absolutely no way. He glanced back into the house. But with just the two of them...more chances of something going wrong, of being unable to handle it. And with BA's tendency to think he could take on anyone and win...No, he couldn't risk taking on any jobs right now. Maybe later. Maybe.  
  
He was not going to lose anyone else.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal sat in the park, smoking, watching. BA and Murdock were over by the ball field, watching a Little League game. Hannibal shook his head. BA had shown so much patience with the pilot the last couple of months. Oh, he still got angry and called him "Fool"; Hannibal didn't think that would ever change. But it happened less often than it used to. And BA actually went out of his way to get Murdock out of the VA, take him places.  
  
It was one of the few times the three of them had gotten together in the last couple of months. Hannibal and BA had finally parted ways. Pretty much amicably. BA finally had had enough of being constantly on the move with no purpose other than to be on the move. So he had gone back to LA proper, working at a couple different after-school centers, and working during the day at a friend's garage. He was getting back to the life he'd had before...Except for two things. They still weren't going on any jobs.  
  
And he still drove the old sedan.  
  
Murdock was doing better, but he still hadn't completely gotten back to himself. The last time Hannibal had talked with Richter, the doctor had more or less said Murdock had progressed about as far as he could. If he hadn't had to deal with the double whammy of first the accident, and then...  
  
Some things you just don't get over.  
  
One thing Richter had told BA, and that BA had grabbed onto with full force, was that going back on jobs would probably be good for Murdock. They might have to be a little more selective about what they took on, but Richter thought Murdock needed that, well, normalcy. He needed the team. So BA tried even harder to get Hannibal back to work. And tried to get the three of them together whenever possible.  
  
But Hannibal just couldn't get excited about taking on clients. Hell, he had no interest in it, whatsoever. He liked the way things were now. Murdock at the VA, BA working a normal job. Both taken care of. Both living lives separate and somewhat distant from his.  
  
Distance. That's what he liked.  
  
He'd forgotten one of the basic tenets of war. You don't get too close. Your men had to trust you, and to do that you had to show that you cared about their welfare. You took care of their physical needs, their emotional needs. Became not only their leader, but their father, their confessor, their friend. And they would follow you to hell and back.  
  
But as the leader, there was one thing you had to accept. Some of them wouldn't come back from hell. And others would, but in pieces.  
  
Which is why you didn't get too close. Getting too close to men who could get killed or maimed could cloud your thinking, or worse.  
  
Lately, he'd thought a lot about Nam. And Korea. About the men he'd left in both those godforsaken places. And how he'd left them. He couldn't think in terms of killed, wounded. Soft phrases like "they didn't make it" or "we lost him" left a bitterness in his mouth.  
  
Instead he saw them. Saw them. They weren't just killed. They were blown to bits, or riddled with bullets, or skewered like animals. They weren't just wounded. They were...  
  
He tried to draw the line there. Too close to home. Way too close.  
  
That's what went wrong. He'd gotten too close to them. He knew he had become what he was only supposed to represent. They had become dependent on him, on each other. Become a family, instead of being a unit. Emotional bonds that became too strong, too intertwined.  
  
That's why what happened to Face had taken them all down. They hadn't reacted to a member of the unit getting hurt. Hadn't reacted to the collapse of a comrade. They'd all gone through that in Nam and survived. They should have this time. But instead, they'd dealt with the injury and death of a family member. A brother. A son.  
  
That had been Hannibal's fault. His own ego nurturing that dependence. From the very damned beginning. He enjoyed, quietly, being more than just the CO. Made him proud.  
  
Hannibal stubbed out the cigar on the bench. Pride. That's what had destroyed the team. Not the accident, not the suicide.  
  
Hannibal's own goddamned pride.  
  
He should've let them go after Bragg. Should've let them melt into the underground, start new lives. Instead, he'd kept them tethered to him, thanks to the paranoia of being wanted men. Taken that uncertainty and woven it into an adventure. Turned it into the Jazz. With Hannibal calling the tune.  
  
Well, it wouldn't happen again. That's why he didn't object when BA moved out. Why he didn't get together with them that often. Why he didn't encourage BA getting together with Murdock. Why he pushed them all into their own individual, separate lives.  
  
If they ever went on another job, he would remember.  
  
Never get too close.  
  
*****  
  
"Hannibal, I've tried, but he just kept calling. Today, he showed up at the paper. If he keeps it up, the military will be all over me again, and I don't think my boss is going to be so understanding any more. I mean, I haven't had a story about you guys for ages, and..."  
  
"Okay, Amy, okay! I get the picture." Hannibal was not happy, but he couldn't let Amy get fired because of this nutcase. "Do you have his number?"  
  
Hannibal wrote down all the information Amy had gotten from the persistent client-to-be, and what she'd been able to dig up about him herself. He sighed as he read it over. Some little town near to where California, Nevada and Arizona met, bad guys trying to run things, as usual. Well, he'd check the guy out, see if it was legit.  
  
Maybe it was time to get back to work.  
  
He picked up the phone and started dialing.  
  
*****  
  
"You sure bout this, Hannibal?"  
  
"Damn it, BA, you've been pestering me for months to get back to work. Now I get us a client and you start pulling this..."  
  
"Okay, okay! Jus seems kinda sudden." BA looked down at the engine he was rebuilding. "You want Murdock, too?"  
  
"If he can do it. Seems a simple enough job."  
  
"He's doin a lot better, if that's what you're askin." BA scowled up at him.  
  
"If there was a problem, I'm sure you would have informed me. Now, is he up to it, or not?"  
  
"Yeah, I think so. You want me to go get him out?"  
  
"Yeah. We'll leave first thing in the morning. Meet at the warehouse tonight. We've got to get the weapons cleaned and ready." He hesitated. "We'll need transport."  
  
"I'll take care of it." BA started back at the engine. "See you tonight."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Hannibal left the garage, checking for any suspicious vehicles. His decision about not getting too close seemed to have taken seed. BA's whole attitude said this was business. Just business.  
  
Good. That was good.  
  
It just didn't feel that way.


	13. Chapter 13

He waited until Hannibal walked out of the garage. Once he was gone, BA grabbed the shop rag and wiped his hands thoroughly. Then he moved over to the sink in the corner. Ran water as hot as he could and swept his hands through it. Grabbed the pumice and poured it over his wet hands and rubbed them together, scrubbing to get the grease off his nails, his fingers, his knuckles. Then he put his hands through the scalding water and rinsed every bit of grease and pumice off.  
  
He turned, grabbing a towel and drying his stinging hands as he contemplated the garage doors.  
  
So Hannibal had finally decided to take on a new client. Far from LA. Out in the boonies, some damn place he'd never heard of.  
  
BA shook his head. Damn.  
  
Damn.  
  
He went back to the car he'd been working on and slammed the hood down. Wiped his hands with a clean towel. Tossed the towel into the bin and walked out the back door. Got in the sedan and started it and drove down the alley and out onto the street.  
  
Fifteen minutes later he pulled up in front of an old freight depot. It looked like it could fall down at the slightest breeze. BA stepped cautiously out of the sedan, checking up and down the nearly deserted street. All he saw were the usual drunks and street hustlers. He moved to the side door and inserted the key in the lock, which looked practically new. With one last look around, he stepped inside and quickly shut the door. With a soft click, it locked behind him.  
  
He stood in the near dark for several minutes, letting his eyes adjust. As they did, he could see the hulk in the middle of one of the stalls, covered with a tarp that was covered in a thick coat of dust and webs. Here and there, a shaft of light beamed down from the ceiling. BA moved slowly across the floor until he stood within reach of the tarp. He was breathing a little heavily, and he felt cotton in his mouth. His jaw tightened as he grabbed the tarp and slowly pulled it off. He kept pulling, methodically folding the tarp as it came sliding down. He looked at nothing else until it was all folded and laid neatly in the corner.  
  
He stared at the tarp for some time before he turned finally to the thing it had protected for so many months. It stood there, waiting. To BA, it was almost like it was demanding an explanation, some reason why it had been neglected for all this time. BA shook his head. Gettin as bad as that damn fool...  
  
He moved slowly around the van, rubbing his hand over the smooth surface, checking it carefully. He wanted to think about all the times it had eluded Lynch or Decker, all the times it had flown down the roads and highways after the bad guys, all the times it had carried the team to victory.  
  
Instead, all he saw was Face.  
  
*****  
  
He tossed the old spark plugs into the barrel, and took one last look at the engine. He'd replaced every belt, all the fluids, the plugs, the filters. He'd fired up the engine and let it run, listening for anything that was off, anything that said the engine wasn't in top form. Adjusted and readjusted until it was purring like a tiger. He'd changed the tires and checked the brakes and the shocks. Oiled the hinges, wiped down the inside, and then polished the outside until it gleamed.  
  
He grabbed a shop cloth and began wiping off his hands. There was no hot water here, and he didn't like that. It took hot water to get rid of the grease. Really hot water. Otherwise the grease and dirt stayed on his hands. Didn't want the grease and dirt on his hands. Didn't want the smell of grease and dirt on his hands. When he was done with a job, he wanted it off him. Completely. But there was no hot water here. All he could do was wipe his hands on the dry towels until he figured he'd gotten as much crap off as he possibly could. It took several towels before he was satisfied.  
  
He opened the bay doors and pulled the old sedan in, parking it next to the van. Moments later, the van was in the drive, engine idling softly while he locked up. He settled himself back behind the wheel, sitting there for several minutes. Just sitting until he finally felt ready.  
  
The drunks and the street hustlers paid little attention as the black van rumbled down the street and headed for the VA.  
  
*****  
  
BA wished Hannibal had contacted Murdock or Richter about this, instead of leaving it up to him. He wished Hannibal had given him a little warning that he was checking into this guy. Sure, he'd been pushing Hannibal to get back to work, to start taking jobs again. He figured that's what they all needed. But it had been so long, and now that it was actually happening...  
  
He worried that they hadn't worked together in months. Hell, hadn't even been training. And to spring this on them out of the blue...Sure, he'd told Hannibal Murdock would be okay. He would. If he'd had a little warning, it would have been better, though.  
  
He tried to remember what was at the warehouse. He hoped they'd have everything they needed. He should've gone over there and checked out their supplies, but there wasn't time now. Maybe, if Murdock didn't cause much of a problem, they'd have some extra time. BA had no idea, really, how he would react. He might jump at the chance, be ready to go in minutes, like he used to. Or, like BA, he might have some doubts.  
  
BA pulled up on the street in back of the VA. After that trip to Curaguay, they'd all figured Murdock had a free "get out of jail" card, that they could just call Richter and have Murdock walk out the front door. If they had left it up to the doc, they would have. It was Face said they couldn't do that, that if Richter didn't know when or where Murdock was going, he didn't have to lie if the MP's showed up. That it was for Richter's protection, as well as theirs, that he didn't know.  
  
It was another thing Face was good at. He caught the things Hannibal missed.  
  
Mostly.  
  
BA abruptly stepped out of the van and headed across the grounds. He was careful, but not quite as careful as he could have been.  
  
If he was spotted, he wouldn't have to break Murdock out, wouldn't have to tell him about no mission.  
  
Maybe they'd have to scrub the whole thing...  
  
BA stopped under a tall tree, just a few yards from Murdock's window. He looked around. No one in sight. He rubbed his hands on his jeans.  
  
He could still feel the damn grease.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock slumped against the headboard. He'd gotten killed again. He used to be so good at this; now he got killed every time he turned around.  
  
Stupid game.  
  
He tossed the controller on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Watched Spidey wending his way across the web to his latest victim, a hapless fly. Murdock had given a half-hearted try at keeping the fly away, but it had been useless. Well, that's the way life was.  
  
Short.  
  
He slid off the bed and wandered to the door. He could go down and shoot some pool; he could play the arcade games. There were always two or three card games going.  
  
He stood in front of his door. He could read that new book Richter had given him. He had a couple paperbacks BA had brought, too, that he hadn't gotten to yet.  
  
He had his hand on the doorknob, thinking. He could go see what was on the television in the day room. Sometimes they had a good channel on. All depended on who got to it first.  
  
He leaned his head against the door.  
  
Or he could just go back and lay on the bed until he fell asleep.  
  
Didn't much matter.  
  
He moved back to the bed and sat on the edge. Every day was like every day. He'd tried to keep occupied, tried taking the crafts and the arts and the groups. Didn't matter. There was no point to it.  
  
No point at all.  
  
"Psst. Murdock. Open the window, Fool!"  
  
Murdock spun toward the window.  
  
BA!  
  
He sprang over and slid the well-greased sash open, stood back waiting for BA to climb in. Instead, BA just motioned for him to climb out. A moment's hesitation and he was standing beside him, watching as BA reached in and slid the window back down.  
  
"What's up, Big Guy?" Usually BA would give him a call before he broke him out.  
  
"We got a job. Hannibal wants us at the warehouse. Let's go."  
  
Murdock stood still, watching as BA headed for the street.  
  
A job?  
  
A job.  
  
Since when?  
  
Why?  
  
They couldn't take on a job. They didn't have Face. How could they take on a job without Face?  
  
BA had turned, was watching him.  
  
"You comin?"  
  
Murdock looked back through the window. Games, crafts and television in there. He looked back at BA.  
  
"Murdock? Comin or not? Ain't got all day."  
  
Murdock swallowed. Nodded. Followed BA to the street.  
  
*****  
  
BA and Murdock sat, wordlessly, cleaning and wiping down the armaments. BA wasn't happy with the condition they were in, although anyone looking at them would have said they'd been stored quite properly. He just didn't like that they weren't perfect. The team always took great care of their weapons. They were part of the team. An essential part.  
  
He rubbed furiously along the barrel of the AK-47.  
  
Murdock would glance at him occasionally. Not wanting BA to notice. Something was wrong here. Something was wrong with BA. Usually, when he was working on something, BA wouldn't say a word, except to tell one of them what to do next. But today...today he was mumbling to himself, almost nonstop. And working on the weapons like he was possessed.  
  
And, every time he finished with one, he'd stop everything and go to the washroom. Murdock would watch him, scrubbing his hands, and then he'd come back out and grab the next gun.  
  
They were almost through with the job when they heard a car pull up in front. Immediately, both men grabbed their sidearms and stepped to the door, one on each side.  
  
"It's me, guys." Hannibal's low voice sounded on the other side of the door, and then he stepped through. He looked at BA, then Murdock. Noted the guns and their ready stance. The look on their faces. Looked over and saw the van. Nodded, as if he'd expected it.  
  
"Okay, guys, let's get to work."


	14. Chapter 14

BA propelled the van down the freeway, out of LA, heading east toward the border. Hannibal had said their client lived about four hours away, somewhere near the western borders of Nevada and Arizona, in a small artists' community. From his description, it sounded like a bunch of over-aged hippies, but he didn't say anything.  
  
The gist of their problem was a group of so-called investors who wanted to purchase the mineral rights to the community's property. The community leaders had refused, since it meant opening up their land to mining. The investors had, of course, taken this badly and decided to use whatever means necessary to secure those rights. 'Whatever means necessary' had been slowly building up from constant phone calls to acts of vandalism. Their client was afraid things might take an even more serious turn.  
  
"What minerals are they looking for, Colonel? Gold?" Murdock chuckled.  
  
"Might as well be. Something they call a 'rare earth mineral'. Whatever it is, they use it in televisions, computer equipment, electronics in general. But I get the feeling there's something more to it. There's several other mining operations out there, doing the same thing. So it's not like it's the only place they can get it."  
  
"Think the client ain't tellin us everything?"  
  
"I don't know, BA. There was something...off about him. Something he wasn't telling me. Maybe he just wasn't all that sure about us yet. It happens. We'll get more details when we get there."  
  
BA couldn't help but think that Face woulda got it outta the sucker. He could smell somethin wrong a mile away and he'd go after it like a terrier. Wouldn't let loose until he'd wormed it outta the client. Most times, they ended up not bein a client.  
  
Hannibal had let it go. BA glanced over at him, sitting shotgun as always, puffin on his cigar like he hadn't a care in the world. BA scowled.  
  
He shoulda found out.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock stepped out of the van, looking around with an air of confusion. No matter which direction he looked, there was nothing. Well, almost nothing. A scattering of strange looking trees, scrub brush, low mountains in the distance.  
  
And sand.  
  
Lots and lots of sand.  
  
"Hannibal?"  
  
Hannibal was re-reading the directions the client had given him. Somehow, he must have missed a turn. He must have...  
  
"Uh...yeah, Murdock..."  
  
"Are you sure this is..."  
  
"Positive, Murdock. We're a little off-course, but nothing we can't straighten out. Right, BA?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
Murdock looked over at the two men. The words were bantering, but the tone was off. Hannibal almost sounded...impatient. And BA...well, there it was again. Something was wrong with BA. Murdock looked around again, wishing he could see something that looked...earthly.  
  
He looked back at his teammates, who were now both looking over the sheet of directions. Finally, BA shook his head, grabbed the letter and stalked back to the van. Hannibal watched him for a moment; Murdock didn't know for sure what that look on his face meant. It disappeared when he turned toward the pilot.  
  
"C'mon, Murdock. BA's got it."  
  
Murdock stole one more look at the desert around them.  
  
He could just hear what Face would be saying about now...  
  
*****  
  
Nearly an hour later, the van came over a hill and BA pulled it to a stop. They looked down into a coulee where several ramshackle houses and other small buildings were scattered. If it hadn't been for a couple of dogs and several small children gathered near one house, they might have been looking at a ghost town.  
  
One of the older children suddenly stood and pointed up at their van. A man and woman came hurrying out of the house. While the woman hustled the children inside, the man, joined by several other residents, came walking toward them. Hannibal looked at BA and nodded. Slowly they drove down the hill to meet the welcoming committee.  
  
The three men stepped out of the van. The first thing Hannibal noticed was that there was no hostility here, only cautious curiosity. But they had taken the precaution of hiding the children. Careful, not paranoid. The investors apparently hadn't stepped up their attacks. Yet.  
  
"Can we help you gentlemen?" The first man spoke, soft, with a slight drawl.  
  
"We're looking for Nick Wasserman."  
  
"May I ask why?" The group had moved somewhat closer together at the mention of the client's name, but again, Hannibal only noticed caution.  
  
"It's okay, Pete." A man stepped up from the back of the group, grasping Hannibal's hand firmly. "Glad to see you, Colonel. If you'll come with me..."  
  
Before they knew what was happening, the team found themselves being led up a small rise to a small house. Woodworking tools could be seen in the open doors of a shed next to it.  
  
Nick stepped up on the open porch and held the door open for them. Silently, they trooped in, followed by their client.  
  
"Well, have a seat. Glad you found your way here."  
  
"What was that all about, Nick? I got the impression this was a group decision."  
  
"Well, it was." Nick had the grace to be embarrassed. "But now, well, things have changed a bit."  
  
Hannibal pulled out a cigar, contemplating it. "How so, Nick?" He could see BA suddenly looking out of the window, Murdock moving toward the back of the house.  
  
Nick sighed. "We sold the mineral rights."  
  
Hannibal didn't say a word. He just looking at the cigar.  
  
"To..."  
  
"One of the residents."  
  
"And..."  
  
"And now we're kinda divided. Some of the residents think its his problem now, not ours. Still others didn't want to sell even to him. Others figure he did it just to protect the rest of us, and that Sinon - that's the investor's group - will come after us to get to him. But everybody's nervous about what might happen next. As far as hiring you guys, well, now they're kinda..."  
  
"Negative?"  
  
Nick just nodded his head.  
  
"What are you people, pacifists or somethin?" BA scowled at the hapless man. They'd gone this route before and it was a hassle he didn't think worth doing again.  
  
"Oh, no, nothing like that. More a bunch of over-aged hippies, really." Nick chuckled. "Most of us came out here back in the '70's, you know. This whole thing started out as a commune."  
  
"While we was gettin our butts shot off..."  
  
Murdock looked at BA, surprised. He'd never heard that level of bitterness before. Nick looked at him, eyes flashing.  
  
"Some of us came here after serving over there. We were tired of killing and being killed. And yes, others of us were against the war from the start." Nick visibly brought himself under control. "But that's ancient history. If you want to stay and help us, fine. If not, I'll understand. We'll deal with it ourselves."  
  
Nick waited. Hannibal looked at BA and Murdock. Reluctantly, BA nodded. He didn't like Nick, didn't like the setup, didn't like the place. But he'd seen the kids come out again to play, and they seemed happy here. This was their home. Nobody was gonna mess that up.  
  
Murdock didn't want to be here. Period. There were more trees and greenery in LA. This place was like a whole other world. It didn't seem real. They had no business being here. Had no business being on a job at all. If Face were here...He sighed. He knew Hannibal wanted this. Apparently, so did BA. He didn't want to lose them, too.  
  
"Whatever you say, Colonel."  
  
Hannibal nodded and turned to Nick. "Okay, we're here. We'll take care of these guys. Now who owns the mineral rights?"  
  
Again, Nick looked uncomfortable. "Fellow named Ed Mordake."  
  
"Okay, let's go talk to the local hero..."  
  
"I'm afraid that's not possible, Colonel Smith."  
  
Hannibal sighed, stared up at the ceiling. "Why not, Nick?"  
  
"He doesn't see anyone. Not much, anyway."  
  
"Well, maybe we're the 'much' he will see."  
  
"You'll have to talk to Charlie first."  
  
Hannibal closed his eyes. Tight. "Who's Charlie?"  
  
"Charlie's his cousin. Ed's cousin. He's pretty protective of him. Charlie says you don't see Ed, you don't see Ed."  
  
Hannibal took a deep breath, let it out slowly. This was not going the way it should have. Not at all.  
  
"Can you get us to Charlie? Or does he have a protective cousin, too?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, no, Charlie's a regular motor mouth. He'll talk to you, no problem."  
  
"Fine, Nick. Let's go see Charlie."  
  
Nick grinned, looking almost like he was relieved. He led the way out of the house, and they headed up to the far end of the coulee.


	15. Chapter 15

It was some ways to the cabin, and, although it was not quite noon, the heat was stifling. Hannibal found himself breathing heavily, not a good sign. He glanced back, noting that BA and Murdock, too, were not faring well. He knew they were all out of shape; he hadn't realized how much. Nick seemed almost unaffected.  
  
"So, how long have you lived out here?"  
  
"Since '71. My brother had been here since the late '60's, and I just wasn't happy going the white collar, nine to five thing. First thing I had to do was talk to old Charlie. If he didn't like you, you didn't stay."  
  
"Oh, yeah? He kinda the leader here?"  
  
"You could say that." Nick was silent for a few minutes. "Charlie started this place. Kind of a Timothy Leary type."  
  
Hannibal stopped. "A dope head?"  
  
"Hey, weren't we all, back then?" He looked at Hannibal. "Well, maybe not. But, yeah, he did his share of experimenting. Into Eastern philosophy and religions. The whole Maharishi thing. And everyone that stayed here was pretty much that way, too. It was a groove." He chuckled, then sobered. "But, uh, he's come down to earth since then. For the most part."  
  
"We don't work with dope heads, you know."  
  
Nick stopped. It wasn't quite a glare he gave Hannibal, but it came close. "Charlie's good people. He doesn't make snap judgments, takes people for what they are. I suggest you do the same, Colonel. Otherwise, you'll get no help from anyone here."  
  
"I thought we were helping you."  
  
"Sometimes it works both ways." Again, that uncomfortable look flashed over Nick's face. "Give him a chance. You won't regret it."  
  
Hannibal didn't have a good feeling about this. But BA and Murdock wanted to go on with the mission. So be it.  
  
"Lead on, Nick."  
  
*****  
  
BA and Murdock had been listening to the conversation. BA was growing more and more unhappy with the situation. On top of everything else, now a doped up freak to deal with. What the hell was Hannibal thinking?  
  
He kept looking around him. People were dressed "normally" - shorts, t-shirts. Some still wore beads and headbands, but nothing really out there. Still, there was something about the glances they were getting. Not hostility, not curiosity even.  
  
More like they were being sized up.  
  
He nudged Murdock. "You see the way we're bein looked at?"  
  
Murdock casually glanced about. "Kinda like lobsters in the tank, huh?" He waved at one of the ladies, who promptly blushed and turned away. BA just scowled and stepped further away from Murdock. If Richter hadn't said Murdock needed this crap, he'd turn around and take the two of them out of here.  
  
They'd almost reached their destination when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something coming up on his left. Suddenly stopping, he turned quickly and found himself looking down at a small boy - a very small boy. They stared at each other for a split second, before the little boy grinned up at him, displaying a remarkable gap in his front teeth.  
  
Another day, another time, and BA would have immediately made a new friend. But BA knew why kids liked him - because they felt safe with him. Protected. Everybody felt like BA would protect them.  
  
BA gave him what he hoped was a noncommittal smile, and stepped aggressively ahead, leaving the boy behind. Didn't need that now. That's why he'd quit workin at those day care places.  
  
Didn't want no eyes lookin at him, trustin him...  
  
*****  
  
Murdock was looking over the shoulders of Nick and Hannibal at their destination. He was fascinated by the structure, which appeared to be some sort of old bus, added onto and somewhat remodeled into a house. Of sorts. Looking more closely, he could still see the faded paint on the sides of the bus - flowers, peace signs...and paisley! He giggled. He hadn't seen that in ages. Especially on a bus.  
  
As they stepped up toward the tottering porch, the man Murdock figured was Charlie came sauntering out of the front door. Well, what Murdock assumed was the front door. It appeared there were several doors leading from the porch into the house. But it was the man himself Murdock focused on.  
  
After listening to Nick talk about Charlie, he had expected some kind of sandal-footed, robe-clad guru. But the man stepping out on the porch, watching their approach with sharp eyes, looked just like Uncle Jesse Duke. Ruffled white hair and beard, checked shirt and bib overalls, work boots...and a big, welcoming smile. Murdock had to fight the urge to look for the General Lee.  
  
"Welcome, gentlemen. I understand you've come to offer assistance..."  
  
*****  
  
They were all sitting in what Hannibal assumed was the living room. While cramped with the five of them, he could see that, for one person, it was more than adequate. And not badly made up.  
  
For an old bus.  
  
Charlie had offered coffee or Scotch and served the accepted coffee before seating himself in a rather large overstuffed chair in the corner, glass of Scotch balanced on the arm. From there, he could see each of them comfortably, whereas his guests were forced to sit sideways or suffer permanent neck damage in order to look at their host. Hannibal's estimation of the man went up, although he still had an instinctive dislike of the man.  
  
"So, gentlemen. What can old Charlie help you with?" He smiled that benign smile that Hannibal was beginning to get sick of.  
  
"We need to talk to Ed."  
  
"Ed?"  
  
"Ed Mordake. Nick here said you could set it up."  
  
"Ahh. Or, not set it up, if I so choose, correct, Nick?"  
  
Nick blushed. Charlie smiled. Hannibal frowned.  
  
"Well, Nick was pretty much on target. Ed doesn't like visitors. Prefers that I deal with them on his behalf."  
  
"Is that pretty much automatic, or do you bother to ask him first?"  
  
Charlie's smile turned almost cunning as he looked back at Hannibal.  
  
"You don't like me much, do you, Colonel? Which puzzles me a bit. I don't believe we've ever met, have we?"  
  
"No, Charlie, we haven't. I just don't have a lot of liking for people who use."  
  
"Ahh. I understand, now. You're, uh, regular Army, correct? Or rather, were."  
  
Hannibal straightened in his chair. "That's right. So?"  
  
"It takes a certain kind of outlook on life for that kind of career, don't you think, Colonel? This isn't intended as an insult, but it does take a certain...narrow view of things. Focused would perhaps be the better word. You know what you know. Correct?"  
  
"When it comes to drugs, yeah, I know what I know."  
  
Charlie actually laughed. A very pleasant laugh, Hannibal was surprised to note. "I have relatives that are exactly the same way, Colonel. I'm not offended by them, nor by you. Would it make you feel better to know that I very rarely partake any more?"  
  
"Possibly. People make mistakes, learn from them."  
  
Here Charlie sat up a little straighter, himself, and looked with slightly narrowed eyes at Hannibal.  
  
"Yes, yes, indeed they do, Colonel. If they can learn from them. If they're willing to." He sat back, relaxed again. "As to the drugs, frankly, I don't consider them a mistake. A learning experience, rather, and very insightful. However, now I find other things in life much better for expanding my horizons."  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"People, Colonel Smith. People. Such wondrous beings we are! So full of contradictions. So full of emotions. So full of shit!" Charlie laughed loudly at the expressions on their faces. "Ah, if only people could be honest with each other, with themselves..." he sobered, shaking his head sadly, "...so much pain could be avoided. For ourselves and for others. Instead, we mete out shit, to spare feelings, to live up to expectations, to be something we are not, but whom others wish us to be."  
  
Hannibal glanced over at BA and Murdock. Murdock seemed totally enthralled with the man, which didn't surprise him. But BA...BA wasn't scowling, as expected. He looked...stunned.  
  
"Uh, Charlie...about Ed..." Nick came to their rescue. He seemed accustomed to reeling the man in.  
  
"Oh, yes, yes, of course, excuse me, excuse me! Ed! Well, he won't see you, of course..."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Why, because he doesn't see anyone. A total recluse, with the exception of myself. Always was a little...shy, that way."  
  
"Well, he apparently has some plan in mind. I mean, he bought the mineral rights that Sinon was after."  
  
"Oh, I'm quite sure he has something in mind. Always does. Always cooking up some little scheme of some sort or another. Quite enjoys it. But that doesn't mean he's going to see you."  
  
Hannibal was getting very tired of this whole merry-go-round. Charlie had a way of speaking that made one dizzy.  
  
"Okay, Charlie, why don't you just tell us where Ed lives? We'll go see him. If he doesn't want to talk to us, we'll leave him alone. Okay? But we really should know what he's got going here. I don't want to do something that's going to blow up in our...that's going to go to hell because of something he's got going. Nor," he added, thinking about Charlie's protectiveness, "would I want to inadvertently cause Ed to get hurt."  
  
Charlie looked hard at him, and Hannibal knew he'd seen through the ruse. All the way through and back to the truth it was.  
  
"Well, I can't tell you where he lives. He trusts me not to let anyone near his sanctum, and I won't betray that. But I will go myself and ask him. I swear, I will do my utmost to persuade him. I do understand, Colonel," Charlie gently interrupted Hannibal's protest. "I really do. Of course, it's best if you talk to him yourself. For all concerned." Charlie stood, their interview over. "I'll let you know as soon as I can. Possibly this evening, by tomorrow morning at the latest."  
  
Hannibal knew when to call it quits.  
  
"Okay, Charlie. Thank you. I'll be waiting to hear from you."  
  
It took several minutes to leave. BA moved slowly, as if lost in thought. Murdock had slipped by Hannibal and was engulfing Charlie in a convoluted and very one-sided discussion about his fellow VA members. By the time Hannibal was out of the house, out of the yard, and standing in the very hot sun, he felt like he'd just walked out of carnival funhouse.  
  
Nick was the last to leave, after BA had emerged from his thoughts enough to drag Murdock out.  
  
"I'll be right with you, Colonel." He turned back to Charlie, who stood just inside the door. "Well?"  
  
"I think it might just work, Nicky. Two birds won't be easy, and three, next to impossible. But then again, what in life is easy, eh?"  
  
They smiled gently at each other, and Nick walked out to join his guests.


	16. Chapter 16

It was a circuitous route to Ed's home. Although not far in miles, it took nearly 45 minutes, rounding through gullies, dry creek beds and around stands of Joshua trees. They had chosen the site for that very reason. To make it as difficult as possible, without being impossible, to find. Eventually, he stopped the jeep near an outcropping of rocks. He would have to walk the rest of the way. That, too, was planned, much to Charlie's discomfort.  
  
Some ten minutes later he rounded a group of barrel cactus and stopped, waiting. He never went closer until Ed had seen him first. Something about the look on Ed's face the first time he had come straight to the door told him it was better this way.  
  
The small trailer sat several yards away, the generator beside it humming softly. From off in the distance, he could hear a dog barking. He sighed. Ed was probably off on another hunt. He eased himself down on a large rock, his usual place, listening as the dog's barking got closer.  
  
A few minutes later, he saw him in the distance, walking slowly across the hot sand, holding a cloth sack of some kind. Charlie squinted. Sighed. Yes, he'd acquired something new. Again. Charlie shook his head, unhappy. An obsession Ed had developed. A bizarre obsession, and Charlie didn't think it was at all healthy. So far, he had been unable to convince Ed of that.  
  
The small dog barked again, and leaped up at Ed, wiggling in the air. A mutt of some kind, definitely part Jack Russell. Totally white except for one ear, which was speckled with black. The animal was totally psycho, never still, constantly sticking his nose into things. Such a contrast to the slow moving, methodical, and mainly silent Edward Mordake.  
  
Ed loved that dog. And the feeling was mutual.  
  
He was closer to the trailer and Charlie now, and the dog, Petey, noticed their guest for the first time. He took off like a shot, heading straight for Charlie, who stood and prepared for the onslaught. It was like getting hit with a bolt of white lightning, and for several minutes he wrestled playfully with the dog. Finally, Petey took off and Charlie looked up to see Ed standing by the trailer door.  
  
"Hey, Ed."  
  
Ed ducked his head when Charlie looked up, then smiled up at him, almost bashfully, before turning and entering the trailer.  
  
Charlie's own smile faded. He wasn't looking forward to this conversation. Ed was almost pathological in his isolation. Charlie had to convince him to not only meet with these three men, but to work with them.  
  
It was the only way...  
  
*****  
  
Nick had kept Hannibal and the guys busy since leaving Charlie's. First, getting them settled into the small cabin not far from his own, and then introducing them to the community.  
  
People seemed genuinely friendly, although Hannibal sometimes felt he was being scrutinized more than welcomed. Nick informed him they had started with a small group of flower children, led by a charismatic Charles Hewitt.  
  
"It stayed pretty small for a while. Then a brother of one of our ladies came to try and 'reclaim' his sister. He was a Vietnam vet, and didn't want his sister involved with any 'peace-niks'. He planned to stay only a few days. Instead, he ended up moving in with his sister and her partner. And he started telling his friends about this place where vets weren't spit at, but welcomed. It became kind of stopping off place for a lot of people trying to start new lives. A place to center, if you know what I mean.  
  
"In its heyday, the village had nearly a hundred people. Now, we usually have around forty. Most are permanent, but during the winter we get an influx of visiting artists. They usually camp out around the perimeter, though, and not in the village itself."  
  
Throughout the discourse, they wandered seemingly aimlessly, but Hannibal noted Nick kept them at the opposite end of the coulee from Charlie's cabin.  
  
He had no doubt Charlie was already on his way to meet with Mordake. Not that Hannibal had had any intention of following him. It would be much better if the recluse could be convinced to meet with them, rather than having it forced upon him. But Hannibal admitted a growing curiosity about the man. He seemed to be somewhat 'farther a field' than even Murdock. Much farther.  
  
And yet, there was obviously more than a little intelligence there. And guts. Buying the mineral rights from the community, knowing full well it would bring him in direct conflict with Sinon. Why would someone do that for a group of people he otherwise seemed to want nothing to do with? It made Hannibal curious about these folks, and Mordake's connection with them. So, as Nick introduced the Team around, Hannibal made some subtle inquiries, and a couple interesting discoveries.  
  
Throughout, Hannibal had gotten the impression from both Nick and Charlie that their resident "Howard Hughes" had been here for quite some time, nearly as long as Charlie. That turned out to be a false assumption. Mordake had only arrived about six months before.  
  
Hannibal also noticed something else, something the villagers apparently hadn't - or pretended not to. Ever since the arrival of Edward Mordake, the lives of the villagers had changed in small, but interesting, ways...  
  
*****  
  
Charlie watched as Ed started heating the water for their coffee in the trailer's tiny kitchen. Actually, it was not really a kitchen, just a sturdy table with a hot plate on top and a 'dorm-style' fridge underneath. His only sink was a small galvanized tub, currently hanging from a large hook on the wall.  
  
The rest of the trailer was just as Spartan. The living room consisted of two straight chairs and a sanded slab of wood balanced on cinder blocks. The fold-out couch in the corner served both living room and bedroom. An old radio crackled out tinny music from its place on the floor next to the couch. There was no television or telephone.  
  
Ed always seemed content with it, to Charlie's mind.  
  
The water was starting to boil in the kettle now, and Ed pulled down two cups from the shelf and dumped some instant coffee in each. Charlie hated instant coffee, but he'd tasted Ed's brewed version, and would rather drink drain cleaner. Ed picked up the cups and carefully carried them in to the living room. Ed had a habit of tripping over things, but Charlie could swear he saw an improvement every time he stopped in. He reached hastily for the proffered cup, anyway, not willing to tempt fate.  
  
Ed sat down in the other chair, and they sipped cautiously at the boiling coffee. Setting his cup down on the table, Ed reached down and carefully pulled out a large cardboard box and opened the top. He looked over to Charlie's feet.  
  
"I finished it."  
  
He opened the box wider and reached in. Even more carefully, he lifted his prize out and placed it delicately on the table. Charlie looked down in near-awe. Macabre as it seemed, there was no doubt about Ed's skill. The skeleton of the small ring-tailed cat was perfectly put together, and posed so naturally Charlie could almost see the complete animal, not just the bones.  
  
"How many did that take?"  
  
"Seven." There was obvious pride in Ed's voice, and Charlie didn't blame him. Finding a compete skeleton of anything was unheard of in the desert; predators didn't like to share their kills, and scavengers would rush in, grab their loot and run for safety. Ed had kept Charlie informed every time he'd found more pieces for this one.  
  
That part of Ed's hobby wasn't so bad. A lot of people with an interest in biology and nature liked to fit together animal skeletons, like working a three dimensional jigsaw puzzle. It was what Ed did with the leftovers that made Charlie wonder.  
  
He'd only seen it once, close up. It was maybe a month after Ed had gotten involved with his hobby, and Charlie had stopped in for a visit. He tried to do that at least two or three times a week, just to make sure everything was okay, but that day had been a special trip. Earlier in the week, Ed had mentioned that it would be a friend's birthday that day, and had seemed bothered by it. So Charlie made a note to be out there that day, and had brought a bottle of Scotch, so they could celebrate the special day together.  
  
It had been a mistake.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal and the men were walking back to their cabin. Nick, apparently confident Charlie had made his escape undetected, had left them to wander about on their own, promising to meet them shortly with the information he had gathered on Sinon. Hannibal was relieved, as he thought the others were; Nick was nice, but a continual flow of earnest enthusiasm was very tiring, especially after the visit with Charlie.  
  
He was mulling over everything that had happened so far; what they had been told, what had been implied, what he had dug up from his questioning. It was a strange puzzle, and Mordake was at the heart of it.  
  
A little girl wanted a dog; her mother sold an expensive sculpture. A man had arthritis in one knee; he was chosen for an experimental replacement joint. A couple needed a new roof for their workshop; they received a grant from a private art foundation. Several other instances of "luck" had been mentioned; things that had plagued the residents for some time, suddenly rectified. All after Mordake's arrival.  
  
Hannibal did not believe in coincidences.  
  
The question was, why? What motivated the man? What was he getting from these people in return for all these favors? There had to be something.  
  
They had reached their cabin, and were just about to go into the relative coolness when Nick came up with his files in hand. Not for the first time that day, Hannibal found himself thinking if he saw one more happy smile, he'd puke. The whole damn place was filled with Pollyanna's...  
  
Nick was just handing over the file, along with the start of an undoubtedly lengthy explanation of its contents, when one of the men came rushing up.  
  
"Nick, we got trouble! Some guys just drove in - they're raising a ruckus down at Queenie's."  
  
Hannibal looked at Nick.  
  
"Queenie's one of our potters. Been here since the beginning. C'mon..." Nick started running down the road, followed immediately by the team.  
  
It was easy to spot Queenie's place - a crowd of people stood in front, many of them shouting at the intruders; a couple of the men were sporting bloody noses, apparently having tried to stop the men. Inside, Hannibal could hear the distinct sound of breakage. He pushed his way through, past Nick, past the would-be rescuers. BA and Murdock were right behind him.  
  
There were five of them, big, ugly, typical goons. One of them was holding the woman Hannibal assumed was Queenie, while the others were either smashing vases and sculptures, or keeping the crowd outside at bay. They stopped when Hannibal stepped up to the door, flanked by his men.  
  
Hannibal smiled coldly.  
  
"Looks like quite a party, guys. Too bad you weren't invited."  
  
The man holding Queenie grinned. "We didn't need an invite, mister. All we wanted was a little information, and the lady here doesn't seem to want to help us out. That ain't nice."  
  
"Hmm. Just what information is it you're looking for? Perhaps we can help."  
  
The man's eyes narrowed, looking briefly at Hannibal's backups. "We're looking for a nutcase named Mordake. He's got something our boss wants."  
  
"And I'm assuming his cooperation would be gotten in the same manner as Queenie's?"  
  
The goon laughed. "Unless he's a lot smarter than the broad, yeah."  
  
"Well, I think we can probably help you get where you need to be, right, guys?" Hannibal turned to look at Murdock and then BA. When he turned back to the goons, he held his Smith and Weston. BA moved quickly to his right and bounced one goon off the wall with a punch. Murdock rabbit-punched his adversary, which did little damage to the stout neck. But the subsequent poke to the eyes, followed by a knee to the stomach, took care of things nicely, to Murdock's thinking.  
  
"Let her go or you'll be breathing through a whole 'nother nose, buddy." Hannibal looked serious, and both BA and Murdock glanced apprehensively at him. They didn't hear any smart-ass banter in his tone.  
  
Apparently Hannibal's target didn't either, as he slowly released Queenie and stepped back, arms up.  
  
"Okay, pal, you get your guys and move out. You tell your bosses at Sinon that this place and these people are off limits. And the same goes for Mr. Mordake. Any trouble, and we'll be on their doorstep with an invitation of our own. Got it?"  
  
The man looked at Hannibal, then BA and Murdock. Clenching his jaw, he pushed past them, not waiting for his men, who scrambled to get out. Moments later, they roared away in their vehicles.  
  
There was a momentary silence, and then Queenie stepped up to Hannibal. Still shaken, she managed a quivering smile.  
  
"Thank you, Colonel."  
  
Nothing more was said, as the villagers entered her shop and began clearing up.  
  
Hannibal turned and walked out, carefully putting away his pistol. Murdock and BA watched him go, mutually and silently agreeing he needed some time alone.  
  
They hadn't seen the Colonel act like that since Nam...


	17. Chapter 17

It had been a mistake.  
  
Charlie really should have known better. He'd never seen Ed drink anything other than coffee or soda, but he thought nothing of it at the time. He only knew that Ed was missing his friend and needed some cheering up. So he brought a bottle of his favorite Scotch and planned on having a pleasantly inebriated evening.  
  
It had started out nicely enough. Ed hadn't shown any surprise when Charlie appeared; he never did. He did look somewhat doubtfully at the bottle, but accepted a glass without protest. Glanced questioningly at Charlie.  
  
"I thought we'd celebrate your friend's birthday, Ed. What's his name, anyway?"  
  
Ed ducked his head, looked away. Charlie barely heard him when he said, "John."  
  
"Well, here's to John!"  
  
That first glass went slowly, Charlie enjoying his drink, Ed somewhat reluctantly obliging.  
  
The second glass went a bit faster, the third, faster still.  
  
Charlie was pleasantly surprised to see how Ed opened up as the Scotch took effect. It only took a few questions before Ed was telling him all about John, how they'd met, the things they'd gone through in Nam. Mentioned two other friends, someone nicknamed "BA", and Murdock.  
  
Slowly, as more and more Scotch was consumed, Ed told him the story of the A-Team.  
  
And how he'd gotten maimed.  
  
Suddenly, the trailer was deathly quiet. Ed stood, swaying dangerously, and headed for the back door.  
  
"C'mon..." he held the door open, and followed a mystified Charlie out into the back.  
  
It was getting dark now, with only a sliver of moon showing, but Ed seemed to know exactly where he was going. Several yards from the trailer, they came upon a pile of boulders and a couple Joshua trees. Ed stopped abruptly. In the dimming light, Charlie saw him put his fingers to his lips.  
  
"Shhh. A secret..." He chuckled quietly, and stepped behind the rocks. Charlie hesitated only a moment before following.  
  
Ed was standing - well, leaning, really - by something covered by a tarp. It wasn't big, maybe a couple of feet high and almost as wide.  
  
"Y'ready?" Ed was looking right at him, grinning.  
  
Mystified, Charlie grinned back. "Shoot."  
  
Ed actually giggled. Charlie was enjoying this new, happy Ed. Not that Ed was morose, but to see someone so shy, so subdued, suddenly acting, well, "normal"...it was great, even if Ed did have to get drunk to do it. He stepped closer as Ed carefully started pulling the tarp away from his surprise.  
  
And, just as quickly, stepped back...  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal walked through the crowd, ignoring the stares of the people. Innocents. Frigging innocents. They didn't know what it really took to stand up to scum like that. Didn't know the price he paid. Come in, come in and clean up our town, save our business, our ranch, our home...take care of it for me. Do what I don't have the guts to do myself. Do what the law won't do.  
  
And then leave. Take your pay and go. Don't make me grateful for the violence you committed on my behalf. Don't stick around, reminding me of how low I've sunk.  
  
Didi mau.  
  
And take your dead with you.  
  
He found himself on the edge of the village. Up ahead, Charlie's place. Beyond that, the desert. And Mr. Edward Mordake. The Great Edward Mordake. Hannibal knew why the man had done all those things, now.  
  
Payment.  
  
He'd bought the protection, the silence, of the people here. He didn't care about them; he cared about staying invisible. And they didn't care about him, either. Only about what he could give them.  
  
So much for fucking Pollyanna's...  
  
Those damn serene smiles. Smug, that's what they were. Smug.  
  
Hannibal looked up at the washed out sky, felt the damn heat beating down on him. Closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Stood, perfectly still for several moments. Remembering how he'd felt, holding the gun on that son of a bitch. Just another coward, another asshole. Just like the ones that cost him his lieutenant...  
  
Letting out the breath, he opened his eyes and looked at Charlie's cabin, off in the distance. Charlie knew. Charlie knew what Mordake was hiding from. And Charlie knew what Sinon was really after.  
  
Charlie held all the answers, and he was going to let Hannibal in on them.  
  
Like it or not.  
  
*****  
  
Charlie looked at Ed, sitting at the table, gently running his fingers over the skeleton sculpture. To look at him now, Charlie found it hard to think of the man who'd shown him that...thing...  
  
Charlie had stepped back, startled. Under the tarp was a dome-shaped structure. Staring back at Charlie were row upon row of skulls. Animal skulls. But not the entire skull - only the top halves. Row upon row of empty eyes and white domes, staring at him, connected together with an intricately glued web of smaller bones.  
  
Under some of the skulls were small pieces of wood, with names carefully printed on them. Names of people from the village. People who had had sudden turns of good luck.  
  
"Like it?" Ed ran his fingers gently over the top.  
  
Charlie definitely did not like it. The sculpture, if one could call it that, was grotesque enough, but the names...  
  
"What, uh..." he knew better than to ask an 'artist' what something was, "what does it represent, Ed?"  
  
"Friends, Charlie." Ed's words were starting to slur, badly. "My friends. The ones who see me as I am, and don't care. 'Cause they're just like me. I'm not a freak, not to them..."  
  
Charlie straightened, looked at Ed, who was still gazing at his creation.  
  
"You're not a freak, Ed. I've never treated you like that. And no one here would..."  
  
Ed looked back at him, almost as if he felt sorry for Charlie. "That's because you've been here too long, Charlie. You'd never make it out there, no more than I can any more." He looked back at the skulls. "None of us can."  
  
Charlie watched him, concerned. "Why the names, Ed?"  
  
"They're special. The ones you've told me about. I know them, because of you. I like them."  
  
It was that simple.  
  
Charlie looked again at the sculpture. He noticed something.  
  
"I don't see John's name. Or your other friends'."  
  
Ed dropped his hand. Abruptly, he turned and grabbed up the tarp, started pulling it back over his creation.  
  
"That's because they aren't there. They couldn't..." He tugged one last time at the tarp and turned back toward the house, weaving badly across the sand. "They didn't want me, Charlie. They wanted Face..."  
  
Ed was back to his silent self after that, steadily drinking himself into oblivion. Charlie finally put him to bed, took the empty bottle of Scotch and sadly went home. He never mentioned what he'd seen, what he'd heard.  
  
Charlie doubted if Ed remembered it at all...  
  
"Like it?" Ed ran his fingers gently over the top.  
  
"What? Oh, yes, yes, Ed, very much. It's beautiful." And it was, really. The bones shone, almost like a pearl would. It must have taken hours.  
  
Ed looked both pleased and embarrassed at the compliment. Charlie hated to break the spell. But he had come here on a mission, and he would have to go through with it.  
  
"Ed, there's something I need to discuss with you. I hope you'll hear me out before deciding anything..."  
  
*****  
  
Nick stood on his porch, watching the sun coming down over the desert mountains. The team were settled in at their cabin, going over the file he had left them. Smith had declined his invitation to supper on their behalf. Nick surprised himself by being relieved.  
  
Shortly after Sinon had been turned down, and the pressuring started, Charlie had asked him to check into a group of men called the A-Team. For some reason, he thought they would be the ones to help out the village. As always, Nick had done what Charlie asked. A week after the request, Nick sat in his living room, going over everything he had found out with him.  
  
"Now, Charlie, are you going to tell me how you heard about these guys, and why you think we need them? Because Sinon hasn't done anything that any other company wouldn't do. Yeah, they're making phone calls, but that's all."  
  
Charlie had looked uncomfortable. After obviously fighting some kind of internal battle, he had first sworn Nick to secrecy, and then told him about Ed. Charlie thought he could help Ed, the town, and the A-Team in one fell swoop if he could get the team out here.  
  
After his initial shock, learning who Ed really was, Nick had thought about it. Hard. He knew Charlie hadn't told him everything, just enough to justify his reasoning. But he'd agreed to it anyway. He liked Ed, and wanted to help.  
  
Nick was probably the only other person in the village that Ed had actually talked to. He hadn't had much choice, since it was Nick that picked him up at the bus station. Charlie had arranged the whole thing, after a talk with his niece in LA. So Nick had been somewhat prepared for him. At least, he'd thought he was. But what he'd found at the bus station was a man bordering on pure panic. The bus had gotten in early, for a change, and Ed had found himself stuck with a crowd of likewise stranded people, all waiting for rides that hadn't yet arrived. He'd practically run to Nick when he'd seen Nick's sign with Ed's name on it.  
  
The ride back to the village had been long and mostly silent, although Ed had answered any questions Nick had asked him. He seemed, all in all, like just a nice, though terrifically shy, man. As long as Nick didn't openly stare at him, he seemed to relax, bit by bit, as they drove along. Going through the village to Charlie's, he'd kinda shrunk down in the seat, and pulled his hat down further, but Nick could understand that. He was still a stranger here. Once he got to know folks, he'd be okay.  
  
But he'd never done that. He'd just stayed at Charlie's for a few days, and then the two of them had gone out into the desert. Within a few weeks, Charlie had moved an old trailer out of his barn, and Ed disappeared. He never came into the village again. Folks knew about him, because Charlie always let them know about new folks coming in. And, as always, if Charlie accepted him, the rest of them did, whether they ever saw him or not.  
  
He was theirs now.  
  
So Nick had agreed to bring the A-Team here. Charlie thought it would be in Ed's best interest, and so did Nick. But it had been hard. He knew, from his research, that Colonel John Smith was cautious about who they took on as clients. He hadn't expected to be refused outright. But Nick was stubborn. Charlie wanted this for Ed, and that's what was going to happen. And finally, they were here.  
  
But this wasn't the team he'd been expecting. Hannibal Smith's odd humor was almost legendary, but Nick had seen none of it. Other clients he'd spoken to had talked about the way they almost thought in sync, the way they acted as one. He hadn't seen that, either. All he'd seen were cold, business-like mercenaries.  
  
He didn't think that was what Charlie had in mind. Not at all.


	18. Chapter 18

Face felt a chill run up his back. Here it was. He'd been waiting for it, expecting it any day. Ever since that night...  
  
"You want me to leave?" He took his hand away from the skeleton and nervously rubbed it on his jeans, looking at the floor. "It won't take me long to pack up..."  
  
"What? No! No, I don't want you to leave, Ed. God, no. I told you, you could stay as long as you wanted, and I meant that. Okay?"  
  
Face was silent for a moment, then swallowed and nodded. He didn't quite believe it, but maybe...  
  
"It's about Sinon, Ed."  
  
Still keeping his head down, he looked up at Charlie, frowning. "They causing trouble?"  
  
"Not yet. But...well, I know you've got your own plans for them. But I thought you might use some help."  
  
"Help? I don't need any, Charlie. I can do this. I can."  
  
God, had he come across as helpless? Again? He wasn't. No. He just...people...  
  
"I'm not saying you can't, Ed. I know you can. But I thought it just might make things a little...easier if we brought in some backup for you."  
  
He sank back in the chair, looking hard at Charlie, forgetting for a moment to hide his face. Backup? He didn't need backup. Not for what he had planned. Those goons over at Sinon would never even meet him. Never see him. He could ruin them without any of that.  
  
"What kind of backup?"  
  
He knew something was wrong now. Terribly wrong. Charlie wasn't looking at him. Charlie always looked at him when they talked. Always. Face felt that chill go up his back again.  
  
Still not looking at him, Charlie gave him the news.  
  
"I called your friends, Ed. I called the A-Team. They're here in the village."  
  
*****  
  
"Hannibal?"  
  
"Yeah, Murdock?"  
  
"You okay?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm okay." Hannibal chewed on the cigar, studying the papers in front of him. He was thinking of a couple of different scenarios they could use, but he couldn't finalize things until he talked to Mordake. He glanced at his watch. Charlie had been gone all afternoon. He damn well better get back pretty soon; Hannibal had no doubt Sinon's goons would be making plans for a nasty reprisal after today's events.  
  
"Hannibal..."  
  
Sighing impatiently, Hannibal sat up and looked over at Murdock, noting that BA was watching them closely. "What is it, Captain?"  
  
Murdock swallowed, glanced over at BA.  
  
"He wants to know if you was gonna shoot that guy." BA's bluntness shouldn't have surprised Hannibal, but it did.  
  
"Since when do we cold-bloodedly shoot people, Murdock?" He turned back to the files, determined to ignore any further interruptions.  
  
"You looked like you was gonna. Like you wanted to. So did you want to?"  
  
Okay. Legitimate question.  
  
"Yeah, Murdock, I wanted to. Very, very much. But I didn't, did I?" He purposely addressed the pilot with exaggerated patience, ignoring the glower on BA's face.  
  
"What about the next time?"  
  
"What the hell is this, twenty questions?" This time Hannibal glared directly at BA. "You want to know if I'm going to go ballistic and kill the sons of bitches? Is that it? All right, I'll tell you. I don't know!"  
  
He stopped, shocked at the words that had come bursting forth. He didn't know? He looked at BA, no longer angry. Shook his head.  
  
"I don't know, BA. Maybe." He looked away from the look of disgust on BA's face, turned to Murdock, only to see a mixture of anger and sadness there. He looked out the window, sighed. "When I saw that guy, holding that woman, I got angry. So angry...angry at that bastard for doing that to her, angry at her for not telling him what he wanted to know. Angry at all the assholes who do things that we have to clean up. And I was angry at Charlie and this whole damn band of hippies, for dragging us in on this, at that Mordake for playing his little games with all of us...  
  
"And, damn it, I was mad as hell at Face."  
  
"Hannibal..." Murdock's voice was pleading.  
  
"No, Murdock, I was. I am. I am! What the hell was he thinking? What was he afraid of - the surgery? The pain? He could've handled it. He has handled it. Damn it, the worst of it was over and done with! No, you know what he couldn't take? What he couldn't stomach? Losing his looks! He jumped off that cliff over his goddamned fucking vanity!"  
  
"That's not right, Colonel!"  
  
"You know better, Hannibal!"  
  
"Okay, you tell me why, then? It sure as hell wasn't because he felt abandoned. We told him, over and over, that he'd be taken care of, that we wouldn't walk out on him. That we'd be with him every step of the way.  
  
"So why? Why would he do that to us? Tell me!" He glared at his two remaining men. "There's no other reason - he couldn't take not being the good-looking playboy any more, not having that fucking life any more! He still had the team, but that wasn't good enough!"  
  
Murdock didn't say a word, just turned and walked into the bedroom, softly closing the door behind him. BA sat, staring at the floor, clenching and reclenching his fists. For several minutes, there was nothing but silence in the room.  
  
Breathing hard, eyes stinging, Hannibal finally stood and walked out, yanking a cigar from his pocket. Outside, he glared at the people walking about, ignoring him. He stepped off the porch and headed determinedly toward Charlie's cabin.  
  
Inside, BA had stilled his fists, but remained staring at the floor. He felt so...dirty. Why the hell had he wanted the team to get back together? The team...he shook his head, staring up at the ceiling, blinking hard.  
  
There was no damned team...  
  
*****  
  
Face couldn't think. Nothing. Charlie's words were flowing over him, but he didn't take them in. Just noise. He felt cold...he felt hot. Numb. He could feel his head vibrating. He stood, or tried to. He had to get out. He was suffocating. His lungs were filling up. He turned toward the door, but he couldn't see it. He couldn't see anything except a black cloud rising up...had to get...out...  
  
"Ed?"  
  
The voice was muffled, soft...he opened his eye, slowly.  
  
Charlie.  
  
"You okay, Ed?" His voice, his face. Concerned. Scared.  
  
Face closed his eye again. He didn't want to look at Charlie right now.  
  
Charlie had betrayed him.  
  
"Ed, I'm sorry. I thought it was for the best. I thought, if you saw them again, talked to them..."  
  
"No."  
  
He slowly turned on his side. He was on the couch. He sighed.  
  
"Ed?"  
  
"Go away, Charlie. Please. Just...go away."  
  
Charlie didn't leave. Instead, he sat down on the edge of the couch, talking to Face's back.  
  
"I can't leave until I know you're all right, Ed." He paused. "I asked you to hear me out, before you made any decisions. Will you?"  
  
"No, I don't..." A sudden thought hit him, and he bolted to a sitting position, immediately regretting the sudden movement. He grabbed his head with one hand, Charlie's wrist with the other, holding both tightly.  
  
"Did you tell them?"  
  
"What? Tell them..."  
  
"Did you tell them where I was?" Face was shouting now.  
  
"No, Ed. No. They don't know where you are. They don't know who you are."  
  
Face looked up at him. Charlie shook his head.  
  
"I told them about Ed Mordake. That's all."  
  
Face let go of Charlie's wrist, almost shoving it away. He leaned back against the wall, holding his head with both hands. Charlie remained seated, visibly calming himself.  
  
"Why, Charlie? Why did you do this to me?"  
  
"I did it for you, Ed." Hesitating, he reached over slowly and placed his hand on Face's shoulder. Face flinched, but didn't move away; he couldn't stop a shudder from running through him. It had been a long time since anyone had gotten close enough to touch him.  
  
"Ed, this is no way for you to live. I thought, when you first came here, that this is what you needed. Time to yourself, time to get used to things as they are. But then I listened to you tell about John, and Murdock, and BA. I saw the way you looked when you talked about them. Ed, you belong with them, not stuck out here."  
  
"Ghost stories, Charlie." He dropped his hands, stared at the wall opposite him. "Ghost stories that belong to someone else. And he died."  
  
"Ed..."  
  
"No, Charlie, you don't understand. It's..." Face sighed, heavily. He knew Charlie was trying to be a friend. "You don't understand these guys. They're the guys that do what other people can't. Or won't. They work in sync - they have to. To have me around...it would throw things off. I couldn't go on jobs with them - it would be a distraction. And we already tried just living together. It drove them up a wall. No action. No challenges. No life."  
  
Charlie started to protest, but Face cut him off.  
  
"Charlie, I know you did what you thought best. But it's not for me, not any more. I can't be who they want me to be. I'm not who they need me to be. I can't offer them anything. I'm...useless to them. Worse, I'm a liability to them."  
  
"Is that what they said?"  
  
"He didn't have to." Face sat up, again ducking his head before standing and heading for the back door. "I've got things to do, Charlie. You can stay if you want, but..." Face hesitated at the door, "I think it would be best if you steered clear of here for a while. Until they leave."  
  
He stepped outside, called to Petey, and headed out into the desert.


	19. Chapter 19

Hannibal strode up to Charlie's door and forced himself to knock civilly. It wouldn't do any good to piss him off if he held the key to Mordake. Especially if he'd talked the guy into working with them.  
  
His civility was wasted, however. Charlie apparently was not yet home. Hannibal's knock did, however, cause the door to swing gently open. Didn't these people lock their doors? Then he shook his head. In Pollyanna-Land? He looked at the open door. So inviting.  
  
He really shouldn't. Even though there might be something in there that could lead him to Mordake. Or a clue about Sinon. It wasn't like Charlie would know. And he had left his door open.  
  
A quick glance around and Hannibal was inside. It was surprisingly cool. Charlie had conveniently left his shades down to stave off the day's heat; it shielded Hannibal's activities nicely. It also made it difficult to see well, and he would have to hurry. He wanted to be outside when Charlie got back.  
  
He knew there hadn't been a desk in the living room. That left the bedroom, or a study, if he had one. Charlie kept all the records for the village; there was a good chance there'd be some clue in there as to what Sinon was really after.  
  
He moved cautiously down the hallway, feeling the wall with his fingers. There were two bedrooms. The first was obviously a guest room - from the frilly bedclothes, apparently for someone of the female persuasion. He moved further down the hall until he reached Charlie's room.  
  
Hannibal had conducted a lot of searches in a lot of places, but he was never comfortable going through someone's bedroom. There was something so...intimate about it. It was the place where people were the most vulnerable, and yet felt the safest. It was where they kept their secrets, for safety, but hidden, from fear.  
  
Luckily, Charlie's desk was placed directly under a large window on the west side. He had just enough light to make the search relatively quick and easy. He found the files for the village in the bottom drawer on the right. Carefully, he pulled them out and laid them on the desk. Started glancing over them.  
  
A regular gold mine of information. Everything about the village, from the original platting to the latest tax records. Who lived where, for how long, who'd lived there before...everything. He started flipping through, faster as the light started fading. He wished he'd brought their little sneak camera, but now that he knew where things were, he could always come back another time.  
  
He finished looking through the tax records, and impatiently pushed the folder to one side. In doing so, he knocked over a photo sitting near the back of the desk. Absently he picked it up and glanced at it before putting it back. And stopped.  
  
He picked it up again. Looked closer, holding it toward the light from the window. Charlie, with a young woman.  
  
What the hell...  
  
He slowly turned the picture over. There was an inscription on the back.  
  
"Thanks for everything, Uncle Charlie. Love, Sandy."  
  
*****  
  
Face really didn't have things to do. He just needed to get away from Charlie, and the trailer, and...everything. Everything he thought he had gotten away from already. He stopped, closed his eye and hung his head. Just more evidence.  
  
He really was a coward.  
  
Petey barked at him, running ahead, sniffing here and there. He smiled. He still had one thing in his life that he could count on. Dogs didn't care what you looked like, or what was inside you. As long as you fed them and played with them, they loved you. That was worth something...  
  
He started walking again, ignoring the growing darkness. He was too caught up in his thoughts to pay attention to his surroundings. He had to think. He'd had things in place, ready to move on Sinon. He'd only had to wait for the right moment. For Sinon to make their first idiotic move. Charlie would let him know when that happened, and then...  
  
All hell would break loose. At least, for Sinon Inc.  
  
He had done his homework. It hadn't been easy. But Charlie was used to coming out to the trailer and finding him gone. So when he made the trek into the nearest city, he hadn't been missed. He'd put on the hated makeup, worn his hat low, his shirt collar high. Hitched a ride with a farmer who, thank God, spoke little English. Spent the day at the public library and county clerk's office, sifting through information, making phone calls, taking notes.  
  
Flinching every time someone came near him, fighting with himself every time he had to ask a question. The county clerk had been especially hard, as he had to ask the man every time he needed a new document. By the time he'd caught the bus and had them drop him off a couple of miles from the village, he could hardly stand from the headache he'd developed. The next two days were spent lying in agony on his bed, fending off Charlie's concerns and questions.  
  
No, he definitely hadn't spent all his time wandering the desert like some madman. Just most of it. Oh, he knew what Charlie thought. Knew what they all thought. That he was nuts. Well, maybe they weren't so far off. He lived in a bare bones trailer, eating whatever Charlie happened to bring. Why?  
  
Because he didn't care where he lived or what he ate, or even if he lived or ate. It was like it was just someplace to be, something to do.  
  
Weird. Yes.  
  
Did he understand it?  
  
No.  
  
He didn't go into the village, but the radio played twenty-four seven. Why?  
  
Because every time he was around people he panicked, yet he wanted to hear human voices.  
  
Crazy? Yes.  
  
Could he change it?  
  
No.  
  
He wandered the desert, picking up bones. Why?  
  
Because when he chose them, they ceased being bones. They lived, they breathed. They spoke. Because of him. He gave them life, and then he wasn't alone.  
  
Irrational? Of course.  
  
Did he really believe it?  
  
Yes.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal had been gone a little over an hour when the door to the bedroom opened and Murdock shuffled out. BA looked at him, worried. His eyes were a give-away red, and he looked pale. BA shook his head. He shoulda left Murdock at the VA, Richter or not.  
  
"Hannibal?"  
  
"He left. Can't say I'm sorry, either. Talkin like that..."  
  
"C'mon, BA. He didn't mean half what he said. You know that."  
  
"Do I?" BA shot a glare in Murdock's direction, but it didn't hold the strength they normally did. He stalked into the kitchen, started rummaging through the cupboards. Nick had filled them in anticipation of a fairly long stay, but mostly with health foods. He finally found a large can of chili way in the back. It would have to do. Tomorrow he'd drive into the city and get some real food.  
  
Murdock came to stand in the doorway, watching him hunt some more for a pan. He knew BA was preoccupied, otherwise he would've seen the set of pots and pans hanging on hooks in the corner. Murdock watched for a few more minutes, until it was obvious BA was going to keep looking in all the wrong places.  
  
"Um, BA?"  
  
"What?" BA looked up from the floor, where he had been peering into the deep recesses of the cupboard.  
  
Murdock ducked his head and pointed to the collection on the wall. He then bid a hasty retreat, as BA rose from the floor, a nasty growl coming from his throat. Normally he would have gotten a kick out the little riposte, but BA didn't seem in the jousting mood. Frankly, Murdock wasn't, either. It just wasn't the same.  
  
He wandered over to the front door, looking out the screen for any sign of Hannibal. It was getting darker, and Murdock was getting uncustomarily uneasy, not having all of them together at night. He wished Face were here.  
  
Not for the first time, of course. He understood Hannibal's anger. He'd felt it, right after Hannibal and BA had come and told him, and then had to leave, back on the run. Richter had tried to work through the grief and the anger with him, but...there wasn't any working through it. It just happened, and he went with it, until slowly, he felt it drying up inside him. Leaving a hard little pit. Except now and then, like today, when it swelled up and he had to let go...  
  
He and BA hadn't said anything, but he knew neither of them had told Hannibal about Murdock's meeting with Face. If Hannibal found out, he'd kill both of them. Because Hannibal wouldn't have let go of those words Face conned them with. In hindsight, Murdock saw how obviously he'd been conned. Face had done what he always did - let the victim think they were getting exactly what they wanted, when, in fact, Face was the one in the winner's circle.  
  
"Now I can do what I have to do..."  
  
Murdock and BA knew what they wanted. For everyone to be okay. And so they had accepted his words to mean exactly that. If he knew Murdock was going to do whatever he had to to get healed up and move on, then Face could do the same.  
  
Instead, he'd just...moved on.  
  
And, in a sense, so had Murdock. Sure, he'd died a little - a lot - inside, and somehow he couldn't get the craziness to work for him, not like it used to. It used to be a safety valve, a release. A way to get all the jumbled thoughts racing through his head out in the open, where they weren't so scary. But now, the scariest thing of all had happened and no acting out would chase it away. No fantasy could erase the reality.  
  
He'd had two choices, back then. One was to just shut down, let his mind take him someplace far away where the pain and the anger and the sorrow didn't exist. Where Face was alive and whole and nothing would ever change that. He'd almost let that happen. He'd quit taking his meds, for a while, and quit trying to reason away the visions and the voices...  
  
But he'd promised Face. And he'd never broken a promise to Face. So he did what he was supposed to do - started taking the pills again, and fighting the hallucinations. It wasn't easy. It wasn't like he could just decide to be sane and voila! he would be.  
  
But he could fight it the best he could.  
  
Now, he could see what Hannibal and BA were going through, and understand it. A lot better than they themselves did. And he worried about them. He worried that he wouldn't be able to help them through it. That if he tried, he might fall off the edge again and not make it back up.  
  
But he was going to have to try. He'd failed Face - they all had, somehow, without knowing it. But he wouldn't let Hannibal and BA self-destruct, not in any way, shape or form. Not without a fight.  
  
He might not be as good at it as Face had been, but he would give it one hell of a try...


	20. Chapter 20

Charlie parked his jeep beside his cabin and sat, staring ahead. Somehow, things just had not worked out the way he had expected. He knew, right from the start, that Ed would be upset when he found out what Charlie had done. Angry, even. But he had never envisioned this. He had completely misjudged Ed's reasoning in leaving his friends.  
  
The people Nick had talked to had leant credence to the deep attachment Charlie felt the four men had for each other. Charlie could not believe that any of them would turn their back on an injured or disabled teammate. That's why he'd sent for them. He thought he had to prove that to Ed. Instead, that was exactly the reason Ed had left them.  
  
And now the trust and friendship that Charlie himself had cultivated with Ed was in deep jeopardy. Something Charlie did not want to let go of, for either of their sakes'.  
  
He stepped heavily out of the jeep and headed for the cabin. And stopped short, seeing Colonel Smith sitting on the front steps, and Nick standing not far from him. One of them, Nick probably, had turned on the kerosene camp lights, and he could see their faces clearly.  
  
Neither man looked very happy.  
  
*****  
  
Nick had headed up to Charlie's as soon as the cleanup at Queenie's was finished. It hadn't taken long - all they had to do was pick up the few items that were left and take a broom to everything else. Swept it all right out the back door. Some of the women had stayed with Queenie, lending moral support. The rest had drifted away, the women shaking their heads sadly, the men, ashamed.  
  
That's something else Nick didn't think Charlie had counted on. Sure, he'd warned them that Sinon could cause major problems, including violence. But Nick didn't think anyone had really believed it would go that far, himself included. But now it was here, and so were these mercenaries, making the village men look like they couldn't take care of their own. Pride was something Nick didn't think anyone here would have a problem with, but from the looks on the villagers' faces, he'd been wrong. It surprised him, actually. Maybe surprised everyone.  
  
He was practically on Charlie's front porch before he saw the colonel sitting there. He had a scowl on his face that made Nick hesitate. Something about the way he was staring off into space made Nick very nervous. And he didn't like the fact that he was sitting on Charlie's doorstep, when Nick knew Charlie never locked up.  
  
It dawned on him that he didn't trust John Smith. Not one iota.  
  
"Colonel."  
  
"Nick." Smith was looking at him, speculative. "You know anything about Charlie's family, Nick?"  
  
"Some. Why?" Nick stepped past him, sat on the chair just behind him. He expected Smith to turn around and look at him, but he didn't. Just went back to staring into the air.  
  
"He has a niece, right? Somewhere in LA?"  
  
"I think so." Nick knew damn well what Smith was getting at, but damned if he was going to ask. One thing he'd learned from Charlie - let the other guy ask the questions. That's how you found out what he knew, what he didn't.  
  
"Where at? What's she do?"  
  
"I don't know, exactly." Which was true. He also knew Smith knew. How he knew was another question. Had Smith put two and two together?  
  
"What's her name, Nick?"  
  
"Uh, Sarah, Susan, something like that."  
  
"Wouldn't be Sandy, would it?"  
  
"Could be."  
  
"A friend of mine had a nurse named Sandy. I think he had a thing for her. Maybe she had for him. Don't know. I do know he talked to her. A lot. Maybe too much."  
  
Nick didn't know what to say to that. Did Smith know, or didn't he?  
  
"Maybe he talked to her about us. And maybe she talked to Charlie about us. What d'ya think, Nick?"  
  
Nick started to relax. Smith was going down a different road. A safer road.  
  
"Anything's possible, I suppose."  
  
"I think maybe he did. I think maybe she did. And that's how Charlie decided to get in touch with us. The only question is, why?"  
  
"Why? After what those jerks did today, you wonder why?"  
  
"This Mordake - Charlie seemed to think he had a plan in mind. Why not let him try it, first? Why call us in before your guy had a chance to work his magic?"  
  
"Well, I..."  
  
"Charlie likes to think of himself as some sort of fixer, doesn't he? Has all the answers to all the questions, right? That's how he kept this place going, isn't it?"  
  
"Well, not exactly..."  
  
"I know Sandy liked us. Liked my friend. She's a good gal. Wants to help out. Wants people to be happy. Right?"  
  
"I guess..."  
  
"So she contacts Uncle Fix-It, and the two of them decide to do a little therapy on the A-Team. Got you involved. Kept pestering until we took this job. Because Uncle Charlie wanted to make little niece Sandy happy. And build up his ego at the same time. Am I right, Nick? We became Charlie and Sandy's little project."  
  
Nick said nothing. He didn't like hearing Charlie or Sandy talked about that way. That's not what they were like.  
  
"Okay, Nick. Okay. We'll just wait for good ol' Charlie to come back from his little visit to Mordake, and then we're going to have a little chit-chat. And then my men and I will take care of Sinon for you, and get the hell out of here." Smith took out a cigar and calmly lit it. "But you and Charlie are going to get one thing straight. I don't like companies like Sinon. But I don't like being played even more. So the cards better be on the table from now on, or you're going to be dealing with a couple of very angry men."  
  
Nick slumped down in his chair. He knew this had been a bad idea...  
  
*****  
  
Face stopped and looked around, suddenly anxious. He hadn't paid any attention to his surroundings for a long time, a mistake that could be fatal out here. It was now totally dark, only the light from the quarter moon illuminating the way. He looked around, feeling the panic building. He hated the dark. Hated it. The doctors had said his "good" eye would get better, that he'd be able to see normally soon, but it hadn't happened. Things were still blurred; not a lot, but enough so the darkness made it difficult to see anything. He didn't like that. Too many things out here at night.  
  
He looked quickly around for Petey, called out to him. A moment later, a white blur leaped up at him, flustering him even more. He reacted angrily, pushing the dog away. Petey stood back, whining.  
  
"Petey! Home!" One of the first things Face had taught the dog was how to get them both back to the trailer. He hadn't been completely stupid. He knew there would come a time when he might need help, finding his way through the desert that looked so much the same. Thankfully, Petey was smart. He'd caught on right away, and tonight he obediently turned and started trotting briskly off into the desert. Face hurried to keep up, stumbling over small bushes and rocks. It was not only physically painful, but added to his anxiety. What if Petey got too far ahead? What if Face fell and broke something? What if he hit his head again?  
  
How many times he fell on the way back, he lost track of. He knew his hands, knees, and elbows were bleeding. He felt the sweat running down his back, down his face, running under the damn patch, itching, irritating. He could just barely see Petey, still running ahead. He fell one more time, and called to the dog. Petey came rushing back, anxiously sniffing around Face's head and neck. Face reached out, pulling the dog to him. He had to keep Petey close, to keep the coyotes and other predators from him. He lay his head down on the gritty sand, the dog snuggled tightly against his side, safe. He looked at the stars above. Closed his eye, ashamed.  
  
He was scared...  
  
*****  
  
Charlie walked slowly up to the cabin, not feeling ready to spar with Smith. But he had work to do. Somehow he had to convince Smith to stay, but do nothing. Not until Ed had a chance to work his plan, whatever that might be. He knew only that if Sinon pulled anything, he was to report it immediately. Ed would take it from there.  
  
But what would Smith do? He had come, after all, to stop Sinon. Charlie sighed deeply. It was all becoming way too complicated. He was not used to dealing with this type of people, people who had no distaste for violence. Who reveled in it. And, if what Ed had said was true, became restless and angry if they had to sit and do nothing.  
  
Which was precisely what he had to convince them to do.  
  
He stepped warily up to his porch, stood looking, first at Smith, then over at Nick, hoping for some clue as to what was on the colonel's mind. He didn't have to wait.  
  
"Charlie, you've been less than upfront with me. I don't like that. My men don't like that."  
  
"I don't know what you mean, Colonel. I..."  
  
"Bull, Charlie. I know about Sandy."  
  
Charlie looked immediately to Nick, who shook his head, arms outstretched. No, Nick would not have said anything. Then how...?  
  
"I saw the picture, Charlie. Yeah, I went inside, took a look around. I knew there was something you weren't telling me."  
  
"Colonel, we've got more important things to talk about." Nick interrupted, anxiously. He'd been preparing for this since finding Smith here. He knew Smith wouldn't let Charlie off the hook, but he was determined not to let that get in the way of the immediate problem. "Charlie, some of Sinon's hoods came today. Busted up Queenie's place."  
  
"What? When?"  
  
"This afternoon. We chased them off for you. But they'll be back." Hannibal frowned, and Charlie knew he didn't like being side-tracked, but business was business. "What did your buddy say? Is he going to cooperate or not?"  
  
Charlie sighed. Too much, too fast.  
  
"He's...reluctant. Look, Smith, he has a plan, and he's had a lot of time to think it out. I'm supposed to let him know as soon as Sinon pulls something, and then he's going to put it into action. I don't know what it is, but I trust him to know what he's doing."  
  
"Well, I'm afraid I don't. I've seen too many civilians try to be the hero, and it never fails to get screwed up. Look, Charlie, we're the professionals here. That's why you called us in, right?"  
  
There was an irony in Smith's voice that Charlie couldn't fail to hear. Damn. He knew about Sandy - what else did he know? Again, he looked over at Nick.  
  
"Nick didn't say a word, Charlie. Dumb as a rock. Now, Sinon has grabbed the brass ring, and Mordake wants to get things moving. So, let's go tell him."  
  
"Now wait a minute, Smith..."  
  
"No, you wait a minute, Charlie. I've had it up to here with your mystery man - and with you and your half-truths. Either you want us to take care of Sinon or you don't. If you do, then we go out to see Eddie, right now, together. Otherwise, my men and I are out of here. Now."  
  
"Colonel, please, I..."  
  
"Okay. If that's the way you want it." Smith stood and started striding away from the cabin. There was no doubt what his intentions were.  
  
"Wait!" Charlie looked at Nick, saw him shaking his head, but he had no choice if he didn't want it all falling apart. "Okay, you can go with me out to Ed's place. But you don't go in with me. You wait until I can talk to him again. If he agrees to it, then I'll bring you in. If not, well, I guess I can't keep you here."  
  
"You'd turn this place over to him, just like that?" Smith looked almost incredulous. "Just who the hell is this guy, Charlie? What makes you protect him and depend on him, all at the same time?"  
  
"Hopefully, you'll soon find out, Colonel."  
  
Charlie headed for his jeep, Smith following close behind. Nick watched as the jeep headed off into the desert. He wished he could've talked to Charlie first. Charlie needed to know about the real A-Team...


	21. Chapter 21

He woke suddenly, cold. The desert always got cold, at night. Petey wiggled beside him, and Face reluctantly let loose his hold on him. The dog stood and shook, before turning and licking his face. Then he stared off into the distance, wiggling and whining. Like Face, he wanted to go home.  
  
It took a few minutes before Face could sit up. He ached all over, and his hands stung. Painfully, he stood, looked around. Still dark. Dark and cold. He had no idea where he was, how far the trailer might be. But he couldn't stay here any longer. He looked down at Petey, who returned the look with expectancy. Face pulled off his belt, looped it through the collar and started forward. Petey strained at the makeshift leash, but accepted it.  
  
He wasn't sure how long they walked. It seemed to take forever before he began seeing familiar sights. A pile of rock, a certain group of cacti. Eventually he could orient himself. They were maybe a mile, mile and a half from home. His knees were aching by now, and his head pounded in sync with his heart beat. He knew he would be dealing with that for a couple of days. Again.  
  
They were close enough to the trailer now that he could vaguely see its silhouette in the moonlight. And then he saw a light bobbing around. Coming toward him.  
  
Who the hell...?  
  
Instinct made him pull the dog to the side, circumventing the light. Petey started to protest; a soft but harsh command from Face quieted him. Silently they moved toward the trailer, keeping the lights in sight. Before he realized it, they were coming up behind the trailer, and Face heard Charlie's voice, calling him. Relief swept over him and he was about to respond when he heard his friends, warning him to stay clear.  
  
Stay clear of Charlie?  
  
The urgency to the voices made his anxiety start rising once again. He looked over to where Charlie's light and voice were, still moving slowly out into the desert. Turning slowly, he began moving toward the sculpture of heads, trying to understand why they were so worried.  
  
Petey began pulling on the leash, raising up on his hind legs in his frustration to be moving again. But he was looking at something, something beyond the heads. Face squinted, trying to make out what it was. But he could only see the trees, not what was around on the other side. He moved closer, giving a tiny jerk to the leash. Petey sat abruptly, still watching, but glancing around now, as if he'd lost whatever it was he'd seen.  
  
The hum of voices from the heads got louder, even more urgent. It wasn't Charlie they were worried about. It was something else. They didn't like it. Not one bit. They were practically screaming at him now.  
  
He swallowed. Stepped back. He had to get out of here. Get back into the desert. Even if it was dark, it was safer for him now to be out there. He took another step backward, pulling Petey with him.  
  
"Mr. Mordake, I presume?"  
  
*****  
  
Charlie pulled the jeep up to the trees and stopped. Hannibal looked at him across the lights of the dashboard.  
  
"Well?"  
  
"Well, now we walk. It's not far. Remember, you are not to go any further when I tell you to wait. If he sees you, it could ruin everything."  
  
Hannibal didn't like the sound of that. He knew, dammit, that there was something more to all of this.  
  
"What do you mean, Charlie? And let's have a straight answer this time."  
  
Charlie looked down at the steering wheel. "I can't tell you yet, Colonel Smith. It's a...matter of trust, between Ed and myself. Believe me, when the time is right, I'll explain everything. And then, I think you'll understand why all the secrecy." He looked over at Hannibal, and the plea on his face was clear. "Ed is...fragile, right now. If this isn't done right..."  
  
"What, he's some kind of head case? I've dealt with that, Charlie." He knew Charlie wasn't convinced, decided it was time to switch gears. "Look, Charlie, I don't want to cause problems for the guy. But you got to admit, you've made things a lot harder on both of you with all the secrets. Instead of treating us like the enemy, how about working with us on this?"  
  
"I would like to, Colonel. But I can't. Not completely. I...he's just not ready, yet."  
  
Hannibal sighed, the frustration rising fast. What the hell was going on with these guys?  
  
"You didn't bring us here to deal with Sinon, did you, Charlie? That was just a pretense. There's something else going on here, something to do with Sandy. Something to do with her and us."  
  
Charlie abruptly stepped out of the jeep and started walking away. Surprised, angered, Hannibal climbed out and followed. He'd give the guy one last chance. Either he met with this Mordake freak tonight or the team was gone. The hell with it. He'd had it with games.  
  
They came over a small rise and Hannibal saw the trailer off in the distance. It surprised him. He had had the impression that the recluse was living in some kind of, well, not luxury, but at least as well off as some of the more established residents. This trailer couldn't be more than twelve or fourteen feet long. Hardly more than a room. One small window on this side. No vehicles of any kind. The trailer was dark.  
  
"Doesn't look like anyone's home, Charlie."  
  
Charlie was also looking at the trailer, a frown on his face.  
  
"Something's not right. Ed doesn't go out after dark. Never."  
  
"What, he's afraid of the dark now, too?"  
  
Charlie flashed an angry look at Hannibal. "You're so quick to judge, Colonel. I'm beginning to think I misunderstood what he..." He stopped abruptly. "You stay here. I'm going to see what's going on."  
  
Hannibal watched as Charlie hurried down toward the trailer. He waited until Charlie had checked inside the trailer, and hurried around the side, flashlight sweeping the ground. He realized Charlie was seriously concerned about Mordake. Which made his reliance on the guy even more confusing. As soon as Charlie had disappeared into the dark, Hannibal made his way to the trailer.  
  
He was getting to be a regular Pink Panther. He slipped inside, pulling the pen light from his pocket and carefully glancing over the interior. Spartan didn't adequately describe the place, but then, there wasn't much room for luxuries, either. He stopped, startled, when his light crossed the top of the table. Some sort of animal skeleton. He stepped closer. He wasn't a naturalist, by any means, but even he could appreciate the effort it had taken to put that together. He stepped back, letting his light illuminate most of the creation. It was almost like a piece of art. He shook his head. This guy Mordake was a real riddle. So many contradictions.  
  
He stepped outside, moving around the end of the trailer. Further out, he could see Charlie's light, hear him calling his friend. There was a note of desperation in his voice. Hannibal knew the desert could be dangerous, day or night, but he had assumed that Mordake was used to it. Maybe it was just another area where he'd been mistaken. He was about to call out to Charlie, offer to help look, when he heard a different noise from another direction.  
  
A small whine.  
  
Instantly on the alert, Hannibal felt for his Colt and quietly pulled it out. He didn't cock it; not yet. He merely wanted to be ready, just in case. Although he'd kept an eye out behind them on the way here, he couldn't be positive Sinon's goons hadn't followed them some way. Then again, he doubted any of the men he'd seen in the village would bother bringing a dog. Or have the smarts to handle one this quietly.  
  
He came to halt a few yards from the trailer, keeping to the shadow of some small trees. In the dim light of the moon, he could make out something small, light-colored. Must be the dog. He could almost feel it watching him. A dog that size would never survive out here long; there had to be someone with him.  
  
Mordake?  
  
Carefully, Hannibal sidled his way around a pile of rocks, hoping the dog wouldn't decide to come after him. He heard another small whine; he wasn't sure, but could almost swear he heard a human voice immediately after. Then nothing.  
  
He stepped carefully, the moon not helping much in the shadows. He came around a tree, and there he was. Standing perfectly still beside the dog, who still hadn't noticed Hannibal coming from behind them. Both were staring at the trailer. Concentrating on that, not their surroundings. Abruptly, the man took a step back, then another.  
  
Hannibal took two short, quiet steps of his own, and then he was behind them.  
  
"Mr. Mordake, I presume?"  
  
The man stiffened. Hannibal grinned.  
  
Finally, he was about to meet the famous Edward Mordake...


	22. Chapter 22

No.  
  
No no no...  
  
Face heard the voice behind him. Loud and clear. Unmistakable. He looked over at the bobbing light. Charlie. Charlie.  
  
You son of a bitch...  
  
Pain laced through his head. He heard Hannibal again. Saying his name. Only not his name. Never his name.  
  
Hannibal had never used his name.  
  
He grabbed his head, clasping it tightly between his arms. Trying to stifle the pain, trying to hide from the colonel. Shrinking.  
  
His friends were screaming at him still. Why hadn't he listened? Why? They always knew.  
  
Always...  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal, still grinning, waited for Mordake to turn around. When he remained facing away, stiff as a board, Hannibal frowned.  
  
"Mr. Mordake? I'm Hannibal Smith. I didn't mean to startle you..."  
  
With a stifled moan, Mordake suddenly put his head down, wrapping his arms around it. The small dog, already straining at the belt attached to his collar, started barking wildly, growling at Hannibal. The colonel reached for Mordake as he started to sink to the ground, but the dog went ballistic, snapping at his hands. Only the tight grasp Mordake had on the belt kept Hannibal from getting seriously bitten.  
  
Damn! Hannibal looked over where he'd last seen Charlie's light. The dog's frenzy had apparently gotten the man's attention, as Hannibal could see the light suddenly bouncing in his direction.  
  
"Charlie! Charlie! Over here! Quick!"  
  
It took only moments before Charlie was beside Mordake, grasping him by the shoulders, supporting him. The dog quieted, but remained hyper, bouncing at Charlie, at Mordake. If Hannibal moved, the snarls would immediately flare out at him. Finally, Charlie had the man up on his feet again, although Mordake kept holding his head. Hannibal could hear him, mumbling; occasionally a soft moan would escape as they picked their way to the trailer. Hannibal, helpless, trailed behind them.  
  
It took several minutes to negotiate the way to the trailer and inside. Charlie hissed at Hannibal to turn on the light at the front of the room, while he helped his friend to the couch at the opposite end. Hannibal fumbled around for a bit until he found the switch. The light came on, filling the room with soft yellow tones, and he turned back to the other men.  
  
Charlie had gotten Mordake down on the couch, and was quickly covering him with a blanket. He looked over at Hannibal.  
  
"In the cabinet over the stove - there's a bottle of pills. Get them. Quickly. Water's in the fridge down below." He turned again to his friend, who lay shivering, head still held tightly.  
  
Hannibal quickly found the bottle, reading the label. A powerful pain killer. Apparently these episodes were not unusual. Charlie would know what to do.  
  
It would be all right, then.  
  
He grabbed the water bottle from the fridge, and a glass. He rushed over to the couch, where Charlie had finally gotten Mordake to put down his arms, and was gently massaging the man's temples. Hannibal started to hand the pills to him when he got his first look at Edward Mordake.  
  
And felt his heart drop through his soul...  
  
*****  
  
Nick knocked lightly on the cabin door. The one they called BA opened it, scowling at him.  
  
"Hello, there. I, uh, thought I'd let you know that Colonel Smith and Charlie went out to Ed's. I'm not sure how long they might be."  
  
"Hannibal didn't say nothin about meetin the guy tonight."  
  
"It was rather sudden. I told Charlie about what happened today, and he wanted Ed to know right away."  
  
BA didn't say anything, just kept glaring at him. Nick cleared his throat, uncomfortably. "Well, I guess I'd better be going. G'night."  
  
The door was shut firmly in his face. Shaking his head, Nick stalked away to his own home, thinking they should have let Ed stay here in peace.  
  
Murdock looked up as BA came back into the kitchen. "Hannibal back?"  
  
"No, man went to see that Mordake character. Him and Charlie."  
  
Murdock frowned. "Hannibal didn't say anything..."  
  
"I know. That's what I told Nick. Charlie wanted to tell the guy about those goons today. Hannibal went with him."  
  
"So, he's finally going to meet Mordake."  
  
"Guess so."  
  
Murdock sighed. One of them should have gone with Hannibal. As backup. In the old days, no one went anywhere on a case alone. Or without at least telling the others in advance. But then, in the old days, they had...  
  
BA was scrubbing his hands again.  
  
"You okay, BA?"  
  
"Sure, I'm okay."  
  
Murdock looked at the floor, then up at BA. "How come you keep washing your hands, BA? If you're okay, I mean?"  
  
BA finished rinsing his hands, drying them off. " 'Cause they got grease on 'em, that's why."  
  
"Grease from what, BA?"  
  
He stopped drying his hands, looked down at the towel, tangled in his fingers.  
  
"There's no grease, BA. You know that."  
  
BA dropped the towel on the counter, stared out the window over the sink.  
  
"It's Face, isn't it?"  
  
"What d'you mean, Face? What's he got to do with it?"  
  
Murdock swallowed. He knew BA needed to talk, needed to let it all out. Murdock had Dr. Richter to help him through it. BA and Hannibal didn't. It was up to Murdock to be their soundboard.  
  
"Guilt."  
  
"Don't know what you're talkin 'bout, Fool. My hands get greasy from working on the van."  
  
"You didn't work on the van today, BA. But you've washed your hands at least four times since we got here. It won't change anything." Murdock stood up from the table, walked over to BA's side. "BA, what happened wasn't your fault, any more than it was mine or Hannibal's. Or, it was just as much my fault, or Hannibal's, as it was yours. Face, too. We all played a part, we're all blameless."  
  
"You're talkin nonsense, Murdock. Can't have it both ways." BA stepped away, and Murdock could see he was getting more and more uncomfortable.  
  
"It's not nonsense, BA. Any of us could've called it off. None of us did, including Face. Hannibal might have put up a fight, but if he'd thought any of us was serious, he would have stopped it. We did what we always do, BA. All of us. Including Face. This time, our number came up, that's all. We all knew it could happen, one day."  
  
BA stared at the counter, resting his hands on it, feeling the coolness against the heat in the kitchen.  
  
"Maybe, Murdock. But Face...how could he...why did...he knew we'd stick by him, didn't he? He had to know that. Right?"  
  
"Maybe it just wasn't enough, BA. Sometimes," Murdock swallowed past the lump in his throat, "sometimes, no matter how much friends want to help, it just isn't enough. It has nothing to do with the friends, nothing to do with how much they want to help, how much they try. No matter how much they care. No matter how much he knows they care. It just isn't enough. Face couldn't handle it, period. It was something inside him. Something we couldn't touch, BA. We couldn't."  
  
Murdock moved again to BA's side, and put his arms around the muscled shoulders, which started shaking uncontrollably.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal was sitting on one of the hard straight back chairs in what passed for the living room. Less than three feet away, Charlie was cleaning out the cuts and abrasions, gently, calmly. Face was sleeping, drugged with pain killers.  
  
Hannibal wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting here, watching. He remembered Charlie jumping up, grabbing his arm, taking the pills and water. The glass had already broken when it hit the floor. And he remembered Charlie's voice. Not the words, just the tone. Impatient. Almost angry. And then things had just kind of faded out of focus. He hadn't passed out; he just hadn't thought, for a while.  
  
He straightened a bit, causing Charlie to glance up at him and then go back to work. Hannibal felt guilty, for some reason. As if he had interrupted something he shouldn't have. Trying not to disturb him again, Hannibal turned slightly in the chair, looked over at Face.  
  
The eye patch had been removed, apparently to wash away the sand and grime. There was a small abrasion on his cheek. His face was deeply tanned, his hair, longer than Hannibal had ever seen it, bleached almost white; obviously he had spent a good deal of the last few months out in the desert. Normally it would have made him look even healthier than usual; instead, it brought out the dark redness of the scars, and where the eye patch had rested was a stark white in comparison.  
  
Hannibal kept looking at him, questions pounding in his head. Why had Face faked his suicide? Why? And why had he come here, of all places? What part had Sandy played in all of this? Why didn't she tell them he wasn't dead? Why hadn't he contacted them? Why?  
  
Charlie finished with the cuts, and sat back, stretching a bit. Face stirred, mumbling softly, before turning over on his side, facing Hannibal. Charlie stood, careful not to disturb him. Immediately, the dog, coming from some corner where Hannibal hadn't seen him, hopped up on the bed and snuggled in by his side. Face's arm came around the animal, and he sighed. Hannibal moved, thinking the dog shouldn't be there, and immediately there was a small growl.  
  
"Leave him be, Colonel. Ed will sleep better this way." Charlie's voice was soft, without censure. He motioned toward the door, and Hannibal, feeling like he was sleep-walking, followed him outside.  
  
The two men stood silently in the darkness. Hannibal absently pulled a cigar out and lit it. Charlie stood a few feet away, staring up at the night sky. Hannibal was feeling so many things. Anger. Confusion. Relief.  
  
Hurt.  
  
He realized Charlie was now looking at him. He stared back, all feelings draining away save one. The anger remained.  
  
"Okay, Charlie. Let's have it. From the beginning."  
  
*****  
  
Sandy stepped slowly into the room, not wanting to disturb him. But he was awake, waiting for her. He glanced up, and quickly looked back down at the floor. She recognized the gesture. Embarrassment, shame, fear. Self-loathing. All the things that people felt when they were dealing with those first few months of disfigurement. She had seen it many, many times, and it always saddened her.  
  
"Good morning, Tim. How are you?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
She sat on the edge of the bed, near the chair where he sat, the sun coming softly through the sheer curtains. It glinted off his hair, and smoothed the harsh edges of the recently removed sutures. She saw, better than he ever would, what he could look like, in the future. If only she could make him see that.  
  
"So, how are you, really?" She smiled at the guilty look he flashed at her.  
  
He shook his head. "It's...I don't know. The guys...they're trying, so hard, and yet..."  
  
"Trying a little too hard, maybe?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
She looked around the room. Cheerful, bright. John had done a good job, making it as homey as possible. The whole apartment, from what she'd seen of it, was the same way. A nice, safe place to stay. To hide. No reason to leave it. Ever.  
  
John had done too good a job. She smiled softly. Well, that was John. Always over the top.  
  
"I need something from you, Sandy. A favor."  
  
She looked at him, surprised. She'd made several visits to the apartment over the last month, over her lunch hour, for a bit after work. BA had asked her to, saying Tim needed to see someone besides the two men all the time. Needed someone who wasn't so...involved. She'd laughed at his discomfort, but agreed readily enough. The apartment was close to the hospital, and she'd developed a liking for the trio, as a whole. There was something about them she couldn't quite put her finger on, but she had decided she liked it. So, given the opportunity to help them out, she'd agreed easily. Not only did Tim get a break from routine, but John and BA got a chance for a real breather, knowing he was in safe hands.  
  
But Tim had always seemed apologetic, as if it were an imposition for her to come. So for him to ask her for a favor was definitely out of character. She started, realizing she'd been wool-gathering, while he sat there, waiting for her answer.  
  
"Sorry, Tim, I zoned out there for a second. A favor? Sure, if I can."  
  
She expected him to look relieved, but instead he frowned.  
  
"It's kind of a big favor..."  
  
*****  
  
"It started out that Ed, or Tim, or whatever you want to call him, just wanted someplace where he could have some 'space', some time away from the...pressures."  
  
"Pressures? What pressures? We were bending over backwards to make things easy for him." The anger Hannibal had felt was almost bursting out. "He faked his death, goddamn it! And Sandy helped him!"  
  
"No! No, Sandy had nothing whatsoever to do with that. She called me as soon as she heard the news, devastated. She thought things were going to work out for him, and to hear that he'd committed suicide nearly destroyed her. Afterward, when he contacted her, it was too late. She couldn't say anything without destroying his trust in her, and God only knows where he would have gone then."  
  
"So what exactly was their little plan? How did she think this whole little charade was going to go down? Alien abduction?"  
  
Charlie shook his head, his own anger and frustration starting to show. "He told her he was going to discuss it with all of you. It was supposed to be a mutual agreement."  
  
"We would never have agreed to that, and he knew that!"  
  
"Well, Sandy didn't! She went ahead on the assumption that you would know what he was doing, if not where. He was adamant about that. Again, he told her that he would also make that clear to you."  
  
"So the plan?"  
  
"He wanted her to find someplace he could go, to recuperate on his own, come to terms. She immediately thought of me and the village. It was a perfect place, secluded, welcoming. She called me, explained the situation, and naturally, I told her he would be more than welcome here.  
  
"She told me his name was Edward Mordake. Again, something they had agreed to do, using a false name. He didn't want you trying to track him down. I never knew him by any other name, until a couple of months ago. When he first arrived, I had expected that he would take one of the cabins in the village, but he was too...unsure of himself. How he managed to get himself here without a complete breakdown, I don't know, but he was nearly a basket-case."  
  
Hannibal looked at the ground. He knew what Charlie was talking about; it didn't take much to remember how Face had been anytime he had to leave the apartment. He must have wanted this 'retreat' very badly. Still...  
  
"I let him stay with me until we found this place. It wasn't until he was moved out here, by himself, that he seemed truly happy. Or as happy as he could be. I found him to be a very quiet, almost painfully shy man. Even more so than would seem warranted by his...circumstances. It took some time before he felt comfortable enough with me to actually have a real conversation. Even then...  
  
"But there were problems. His need for isolation became greater and greater. He began wandering out in the desert. Conversations became harder; at times, he would just stop talking, and act like he was listening to something only he could hear. He kept the radio on constantly, would get upset if I suggested he shut it off, even if only while I was here. He started developing phobias - like being out at night. I brought him the dog after a few weeks, a stray that showed up. I thought having something to take care of, something to care about, might help. In a way, it did, but it also kind of backfired on me. Petey became a substitute for human companionship."  
  
"What about the little 'favors' for the people here? Was that a way of ensuring his privacy?"  
  
"Oh, no. Not at all. He knew no one would discuss him with anyone. That's not our way. Sandy had assured him of that. No, those were more of a 'thank you', I think, and something of a surprise to me. I'm not sure how he managed it, although I have some idea. We talked about the people in town frequently; he seemed to want to know about everyone, and had a phenomenal memory. So, when someone would have a stroke of luck, I'd stop out to let him know. And nearly every time, I'd find him flat on his back, in the throes of one of these horrendous headaches."  
  
"And what about Sinon? When did you bring him in on that? And why let him take over like he obviously has?"  
  
Charlie sighed.  
  
"That's a long story..."


	23. Chapter 23

The car was not meant for this kind of terrain, and the five men inside were feeling every bump, rut, and rock. The man in the front passenger seat gripped the dash with one hand, glaring ahead at what he would only call an appearance of road. If it got much rougher, they would have to turn around, find some other means of transport, and come back, hoping they could pick up the trail once again. He didn't like that idea, but he wasn't dumb enough to chance getting stranded out here.  
  
He had been hired only recently by the partners of Sinon. It was a job he was used to, although typically his clients were landlords who needed their tenants 'convinced' to move out, or developers who needed landowners 'persuaded' to sell. He was good at what he did. Typically, his clients were more than satisfied with his services.  
  
In his opinion, this would be no exception. Indeed, until this afternoon, he had thought it would be a simple case. After all, he only had to deal with one person. The only complication was finding that person. He had been certain that a little overt intimidation of two, maybe three, resident nut balls would give him the information he needed.  
  
He hadn't known about these other guys. And that irritated him. His informant in the village would be learning just how irritated, but that would come later.  
  
The driver suddenly pulled the car to a stop, dust floating past the car. He looked over at the man in the passenger seat, shrugging his shoulders.  
  
"This bird can't take any more, Les. It's just not made for it."  
  
Les nodded, not surprised. He didn't say a word as the driver struggled to get the car turned around, and headed back. One thing they had in their favor. It was obvious that only one other vehicle had come this way. It wouldn't be hard to follow the tracks to its destination. They would come back, following those tracks, and then Les would have a little chat with Mr. Edward Mordake.  
  
*****  
  
Charlie closed the door to the trailer, after checking to make sure Face was still asleep. He pulled two camp stools from an old locker by the corner and handed one to Hannibal before seating himself. Hannibal also sat, bringing out yet another cigar. They were the only things keeping him relatively calm, and then, just barely.  
  
"Sinon, Charlie."  
  
"Yes. Well, they actually were here long before I realized it. We frequently find hikers on the property, which we don't mind, as long as they're careful. We discovered there was a group of people checking out the old mines; they came and went, and were generally respectful. Told me they were doing research on the old gold mines of California."  
  
"Gold? Is there still gold here?" Maybe...  
  
"Oh, no, not enough to bother with. That was depleted long ago. But there's still a mystique, you know. So none of us saw it as anything unusual. In fact, we started referring to them as the '49'er's, kind of a joke, you know." Charlie shook his head, sadly. "If only we had known..."  
  
"So these 'researchers' were actually working for Sinon."  
  
"Yes, we figured that out after their representatives showed up, about a month after Ed came to us. They were polite at first, business-like. I told them we weren't interested in selling the mineral rights, and they thanked us and left. The next week, they were back. And the week after. Each time, a little more aggressive in their sales pitch.  
  
"Finally, I told them, politely but firmly, that we were not interested now nor would we be in the future, and that they were not to come back. That's when the phone calls started. First to me, and then to some of the more influential members of the village. Still polite, for the most part, but aggressive. Again, we all refused. None of us wanted to see any mines reopened, or new ones dug.  
  
"That's when they began the threats. Veiled, of course, so we couldn't press any charges or make any accusations without causing ourselves problems legally. And, of course, I was telling Ed about them. He didn't like it any more than the rest of us. The difference was, he seemed to know what to do about it. He offered a solution for us. He would purchase the rights himself, for a penny, and we would have, oh, what did he call it? First right or something. Anyway, he couldn't sell to anyone unless he gave the village the opportunity to purchase them back for the same amount first. It protected us, but not him. As soon as Sinon heard of the transaction, they began putting pressure on us to get at Ed. Up until this thing with Queenie, it was still just verbal, and vague."  
  
"So when did you find out about us?"  
  
Charlie chuckled ironically. "On your birthday, Colonel Smith..."  
  
*****  
  
BA looked out of the front door one more time, staring intently up the coulee toward Charlie's. Still no sign of the men, and it was getting late. Very late. He angrily shut the door and turned back to the living room. Murdock was seated on the couch, where he and BA had been pretending to play cards.  
  
"Nothing yet?"  
  
"Not a thing. I don't like it."  
  
"Well, they would have a lot to discuss. If this guy has plans like Hannibal does, the two of them could go on for hours."  
  
"Yeah, or he could've decided he didn't want Hannibal interfering - at all." BA scowled deeply, staring again at the front door.  
  
"I don't think he'd do anything, BA. From what Charlie's said, he seems like kind of a milquetoast, if you know what I mean. All brains, no brawn. Besides, I don't think Charlie would let anyone violent stay around."  
  
"Yeah, I know. Still...what if somethin happened on the way out there, or comin back? What if those goons followed 'em?"  
  
"We're talking about Hannibal, BA. He wouldn't be caught short."  
  
"Maybe. Before...no, he wouldn't. But he ain't thinkin straight any more. You know that."  
  
Yes, Murdock knew that well enough. He sighed. BA seemed to be more on a level now; at least, he hadn't washed his hands again since Murdock talked to him. But it wasn't all over for him, and Murdock knew it. He also knew that Hannibal would be a whole other story. He was a lot more devious than BA would ever think of being, and his self-delusions would be a lot harder to break through.  
  
BA stared at his cards for a few more minutes before tossing them on the table. He stalked to the front door, yet again staring out into the dark.  
  
"I'm gonna go wake up Nick. Maybe he knows how to get out there."  
  
"BA, he already told us he doesn't. Nobody knows except Charlie. Besides, it'd be pure hell trying to find our way over this terrain in the dark. And the van isn't exactly desert-ready."  
  
BA sighed. Murdock was right. It didn't make him like it any better. He returned to his seat, picked up his cards and stared down at them.  
  
It was going to be a really long night...  
  
*****  
  
"So once you knew who he really was, and about us, you decided to let him run with the ball, is that it? Figured he could hold off an entire corporation all on his own?"  
  
"I knew from the minute I met him that he was intelligent, resourceful, determined. When he offered to buy the mineral rights, he told me he knew how to stop Sinon dead in their tracks, and I believed him. There was no craziness in that discussion, Colonel. He was as grounded as that cactus there. When I found out about you all, it just confirmed my belief in him. Yes, I decided to get you here, but not because he needed help with Sinon. I wanted you here because he needed you, whether he realized it or not."  
  
Hannibal was pacing now. Charlie's description of Face when he first arrived was not easy to listen to, but his account of that night, with that 'sculpture'...that was insane. Good God...Charlie should have sent Face back to the hospital long ago. He didn't belong out here, falling into some kind of psycho world where dead animals were his only friends. But Charlie had let him stay, because Face knew how to deal with Sinon. Let him go crazy, just to save the damn village from what? A couple holes in the ground?  
  
"You should've just told us, right from the start. We'd have come and gotten him, taken him home, before all this craziness started. Damn it, you saw what was happening and you just let it!"  
  
Charlie remained calm. "I didn't just let it happen, Colonel. I talked to Sandy, asked her to find you. But by that time, you'd disappeared. Not knowing who you really were, we had no way of finding you. By the time I found out who he was, well, it was too late. He'd already gone too far around the bend. All I could hope was that bringing you together would keep it from being permanent."  
  
"Doesn't explain why you didn't tell us right away."  
  
"Because I didn't want you racing up here and dragging him away, or confronting him. I told you, Colonel, and I meant it - he's fragile. You saw what happened tonight. He left the trailer hours ago, and obviously he's been out in the desert since then. God knows what happened out there, considering what he looked like. And look how he reacted when you came up on him like you did. It doesn't take a genius to know he wasn't ready for you to be here, and didn't want you to be here. I should have tried preparing him for this before, but we had such a hard time finding you, getting you to respond, I had no idea when, or if, you'd ever get here."  
  
"But if you had told us..." Hannibal was losing the last bit of patience.  
  
"If I had told you, you would have barged in here just like you did tonight, regardless of what approach would have been best for Ed. I know your type, Colonel. You always know better than anyone else how things should be done, don't you? Your kind feeds off being in charge, calling the shots. Ed called what happened to him a 'miscalculation'. You and I both know better, don't we, Colonel? What happened to him was your ego!"  
  
Hannibal turned fast and furiously, his impulse to put his fist right through Charlie's face. But he stopped, shaking with anger. And shame. Charlie was only echoing what he'd been telling himself for months. He turned away, staring at the trailer. Closed his eyes, trying to gain some control. He had to think, to plan. He had to find some way of salvaging...everything.  
  
"Look, Colonel, I know this hasn't been easy for you." Charlie's tone was conciliatory, as if he were ashamed of his outburst. "Believe me, I have not only Ed's best interest at heart, but yours. You were together a long time, and I can't discount the loyalty and attachment I heard in his voice when he talked about you. But you need to follow my lead on this. Will you do that?"  
  
Hannibal could only nod. What else was there to do?  
  
*****  
  
"The jeep's not back yet. They must still be out there."  
  
"You better be right this time. Not telling us about these new guys was not a good move on your part."  
  
"I didn't know anything about it, Les. I swear. Charlie and Nick played it close to the cuff on that. No one knew they were coming."  
  
"All right. I can't run up there in the daylight, but we'll take a swing over with the chopper. The yokels must be used to that by now."  
  
"Yeah, no one will think anything of it, Les. I could try to follow the tracks if you want."  
  
"Sure, and have someone see you? Real smart. You just keep your eye on those other two. I want to know everything they're doing, understand? Everything."  
  
"No problem, Les."  
  
Les hung up the phone. The guy was a real weasel, and he hated weasels. Maybe he'd use him as the next target at the village - send a little message home, as well as to the rest of that lot. In the meantime, he needed to get his pilot up in the air...  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal woke, stiff and sore, and more tired than he had been when he'd gone to sleep. At whatever the hell time that had been. Charlie had stationed himself on an air mattress next to Face's bed, giving Hannibal a couple of blankets and a sleeping bag he kept in the jeep. The floor of the trailer was hard, but Hannibal had slept worse places.  
  
He listened for a few minutes to the soft voices coming from the radio. It was true; Face did not like having the radio off. Even in his drugged sleep, he'd gotten restless as soon as Hannibal had shut it off. Charlie, giving him that infuriating "I-told-you-so" look, had reached casually over and turned it back on, letting Face drift back to sleep.  
  
Now, as he gradually came fully awake, he was aware of other noises as well. He looked over toward the couch; it was empty, and the air mattress was gone. He made out soft voices outside, and a dog's excited yap now and again. Groaning softly, he pushed himself up off the floor and headed outside.  
  
Charlie was sitting on the camp stool from last night, talking quietly but earnestly to Face, who sat on Hannibal's stool in the shade of the Joshua tree. The dog lay by his feet, at least until Hannibal stepped out. Immediately the dog stood and commenced growling.  
  
That would be the first change Hannibal made.  
  
Charlie looked up at Hannibal, said something to Face. Instead of turning to look at him, Face sat up straighter, but kept his head down, to the side. Hannibal had the distinct feeling he was looking at an animal ready to rabbit at the first scent of danger. Not a good feeling.  
  
Charlie laid his hand on Face's knee, said something more, to which Face only nodded. Standing, Charlie headed over to the door of the trailer, where Hannibal had waited, on instinct, until he was told to move.  
  
"He's still a little groggy, and I can't guarantee how long the headache will leave him alone, but I've talked to him and he's willing to talk to you. Just take it easy, all right?"  
  
"I know how to talk to my own man, Charlie."  
  
"You just don't get it, do you, Colonel? That's not your man any more. He wants to be, but he also knows he can't be. Accept that. Accept him."  
  
Hannibal just looked at Charlie before stepping around him and heading toward Face. He stopped when the damn dog started in again. Charlie called him, and reluctantly, he trotted past Hannibal and followed Charlie into the trailer.  
  
He stood for a minute, looking down at Face. He wasn't wearing the eye patch yet; instead, he had a pair of dark sunglasses on, and a battered cowboy hat. Hannibal didn't expect an invitation to sit, and didn't wait for one.  
  
"Well, Face. I'm glad to see you're alive and well." He tried to sound sincere, but a tinge of sarcasm came through. He could've bitten his tongue.  
  
"I'm sorry, Hannibal." Face shifted uneasily on the stool. "I couldn't think of any other way."  
  
"Any other way to do what, Face? If you needed some space, all you had to do was say so."  
  
"It wasn't that. Not just that, anyway."  
  
"Then what was it? Please, Face, I really want to understand what possessed you to go to such an extreme. Do you have any idea what that did to us? To BA? To Murdock? My God, we almost lost him again."  
  
"I made him promise...to keep working..."  
  
"You think that made any difference?"  
  
"Charlie said he's here. That he seems okay."  
  
"He's here, yes. And he's functioning. That's about all any of us are doing." Damn. Hannibal didn't want the conversation going this way. He didn't want to make Face feel guilty, he wanted him to come home. But he couldn't help the anger he felt at what Face had done. "Look, Face, I don't want to come down on you like this. I don't. I want you to come back with us. Where you belong. Then we can work all this out, together."  
  
"I can't."  
  
"Why not? Why cut yourself off like this? My God, Face, this isn't how you want to live."  
  
"It is for now. I can't...I can't make it out there. Not any more."  
  
"Bullshit. You've convinced yourself you can't, but it's not true. Sure, it's going to be rough for a while, but you'll have us backing you up. You don't have to hide away out here."  
  
"I like it out here, Hannibal. There's no one to stare at me. No one telling me what to do. No one treating me like a child."  
  
Hannibal straightened up at that. Eyes squinting, he glared at his lieutenant. "Is that what's bothering you? That I took charge? Well, someone had to. If I hadn't, you would've hidden away in your room, feeling sorry for yourself. Which is exactly what you've been doing out here. Hiding. Talking to bones, for God's sake. Indulging yourself in a fantasy world where everything's okay, because nobody looks at you. It didn't matter a damn bit what you put the rest of us through, as long as you were happy. That was more than just childish and selfish. That was cruel. To put Murdock through that, especially. What the hell were you thinking?"  
  
Face's voice was so low Hannibal could hardly hear it.  
  
"It was for the best, Hannibal. The way everybody was acting..."  
  
"Everybody was under a lot of stress, Lieutenant. And you didn't make it any easier. I thought you had more fight in you. I thought you would at least try to make the best of it, but you wouldn't. All you could think of was what you lost. That wasn't the man I took into my unit."  
  
"No, it wasn't, Hannibal. You're right about that. You wouldn't want me in your unit."  
  
"That's not what I meant, and you know it. Damn it, Face, I'm trying to understand where you're coming from, but I can't. I just can't. If you would just come back with us, at least try to get your act together again...we'll help you, but you've got to try."  
  
"I can't come back, Hannibal. Why can't you believe me? That's not my world any more. Maybe it never was."  
  
Hannibal had had enough. Charlie was right about one thing. This wasn't his man any more. Face would never let himself get defeated like this. Face never just gave up. He stood abruptly.  
  
"I'm going to have Charlie take me back to the village. We'll stick around long enough to take care of these goons for them, and then we're heading back to LA. If you decide you're willing to start living again, you're more than welcome to come with us. You just let Charlie know."  
  
A few minutes later, an angry Charlie and an even angrier Hannibal headed off toward the jeep. Charlie made Face promise he would be at the trailer when he came back.  
  
No one noticed the helicopter flying high overhead.


	24. Chapter 24

"Bainbridge, this is Teller. How do you read?"  
  
"Teller, this is Bainbridge. We have a five."  
  
"Bainbridge, possible sighting. Small trailer approximately 4.5 miles from last position. Acknowledge."  
  
"Teller, affirmative. How soon can you confirm?"  
  
"Bainbridge, I can set down a couple miles out. ETA ninety minutes max. If confirmed, shall we pick up?"  
  
"Teller, affirmative. Report on completion."  
  
"Bainbridge, out."  
  
*****  
  
Face sat for some time after Hannibal and Charlie left, not really thinking. Feeling, but not thinking. It was as if every emotion he had ever felt in his life was screaming at him, tearing at him. He was breathing hard, not getting any air, shaking as if the very ground beneath him was heaving. He angrily threw the hat to the ground, tearing the sunglasses off and crushing them in his hand, disregarding the cutting of the sharp plastic. He grabbed his head with both hands, as if trying to crush it as well. Every inch of him howled to run after Hannibal.  
  
Instead, he let loose with a howl of his own, an animalistic, primal roar of frustration and rage, hurt and terror.  
  
Petey hid under the trailer.  
  
*****  
  
The ride back to the village was oppressively silent. Charlie pushed the jeep to its limits, not really caring when it bottomed out. It was just a jeep, after all. Something that could be replaced. What he had heard between the two men back there...the destruction of something irreplaceable? It made him sick at heart.  
  
The part he had played in that destruction would eat at him for a long, long time. Maybe forever. Who knew? Had he done the wrong thing, calling on the A-Team? Letting Ed stay out at that trailer? Allowing him to come to the village in the first place?  
  
He had accused Colonel Smith of allowing his ego to rule. Was he really so different?  
  
*****  
  
Murdock shuffled to the front door, which they had finally just left open so they could watch Charlie's place from the living room. BA, thanks to a little something Murdock had slipped into some warm milk, had finally fallen asleep on the couch. He had been winding tighter and tighter as the night wore on, until Murdock was afraid the big man's heart wouldn't stand the strain any more. He had never seen him that tense, never, not even in Nam. It was as if all the stress and pain of the last few months were finally overpowering him.  
  
Murdock hadn't felt the least bit guilty drugging him.  
  
Now, he looked out at the early morning, already feeling the heat rising. How did people live out here? Didn't they miss seeing anything green, other than the few scattered weeds here and there? Some real trees, real grass? Real plants? Well, he supposed people could get used to anything. He knew people could get used to anything. He looked again, up toward Charlie's place.  
  
Nothing.  
  
He was strangely not worried. He should be. He really should be. But it was odd. The more tense BA had gotten, the more calm Murdock became. And Hannibal...he knew something major was coming from that direction. Some upheaval. Otherwise he wouldn't have been gone all night. Murdock wasn't worried about Hannibal. He really wasn't worried about whatever crisis he was bringing back with him. Funny, how calm he felt about it all. He would just deal with whatever came.  
  
After all, he'd already survived the worst thing that could happen.  
  
*****  
  
The jeep came to the last rise before entering the village proper, and slowed to a stop. Hannibal looked over at Charlie.  
  
"What are you going to do now, Colonel?" The voice soft, without sarcasm or censure.  
  
Hannibal looked down into the coulee. He could see their cabin, and Charlie's, in the distance. He shook his head. He'd calmed down some over the drive back, but the feeling of dissatisfaction, discontent, of wanting to do something, anything, was still strong. He just...  
  
"I don't know, Charlie. It's too much to take in, all at once. I have to think about things. The one thing I can do, that I know how to deal with, is Sinon. I told Face...Ed...that we would deal with that bunch, and then head back to LA."  
  
"Ed does have his own plan, remember. Did he tell you what it was?"  
  
"No."  
  
"So...?"  
  
"So he'll do his thing, we'll do ours. Between us, we'll shut the slimeballs down."  
  
Charlie didn't look as if he really liked that plan, but said nothing more about it.  
  
"What about your other men? Are you going to tell them about Ed?"  
  
"No. Not yet, anyway." Hannibal sighed heavily. "I don't understand him. I don't understand any of this. I have to concentrate on the job, now. And so do they. After, then...then I'll tell them. Maybe."  
  
"Maybe?"  
  
"Maybe it would be better to just let sleeping dogs lie. It's obvious Face doesn't want to come back to us. Even if he did, I'm not sure we could adjust to his...way of thinking. I don't know." Hannibal shook his head, trying to clear it. "I'll have to think about it. I don't want you saying anything to them, understood?" Hannibal glared at Charlie.  
  
"No, don't worry, Colonel. I think I've interfered enough."  
  
Neither man spoke again, and Charlie dropped Hannibal off at their cabin.  
  
*****  
  
BA felt someone shaking him, and he hated that. He reached up, automatically grabbing for the arms or neck, whichever he could get first. The shaking immediately stopped, and Murdock's voice came through the fog.  
  
"C'mon, Big Guy. The Colonel's back. Wakey-wakey!"  
  
God, sometimes he hated that voice...  
  
He opened his eyes, the faint weight at the back of his head telling him he'd been doped again. He looked suspiciously around, expecting to find the Fool had flown him to some crazy new place. He was surprised to see the walls of the living room.  
  
"C'mon, BA. Hannibal's okay. C'mon."  
  
Finally the words got through the cotton in his brain. Hannibal. He sat up, shook his head, and lumbered over to the front door. Hannibal was coming up, looking wrinkled and uptight.  
  
Not good.  
  
"Hey, Colonel, we were getting worried. Did you meet Mordake? What'd he say?"  
  
Hannibal looked at them both for a long moment before he spoke. "Yeah, I talked to him. We'll get no help there. We're on our own. And we're gonna take Sinon down and get the hell out of here."  
  
He pushed past them, heading for the kitchen. A moment later, they heard the coffeemaker start up. Murdock and BA looked at each other before Murdock followed Hannibal. BA could hear him pumping Hannibal for information, and the terse way Hannibal kept cutting him off.  
  
BA looked outside, saw Charlie's jeep heading up to his own cabin. He'd like to get that guy alone. He'd find out what was going on, right quick. With a bad feeling in his gut, he, too, headed into the kitchen.  
  
Ten minutes later, he was out on the porch, sipping milk-diluted coffee, when Charlie's jeep drove by, heading back out into the desert.  
  
Too much crap goin on around here. Too many people makin too many plans. Too many people keepin secrets.  
  
Way too many secrets...  
  
*****  
  
It had taken Face some time to get back in control of himself. He had hollered himself hoarse, then looked shame-faced around, as if there would be anyone there to see his outburst. His left eye hurt; he knew it couldn't, but it did. He would have to rinse that out. He needed a shower. He needed a drink. He needed...  
  
He shook his head. Put everything on automatic pilot, something he'd gotten good at over the months. When things got to him, when he couldn't deal with his thoughts, he switched everything off. Robot man.  
  
Sometimes it was the only way he kept himself from walking off into the desert, forever.  
  
He saw Petey under the trailer, and remorse hit him hard. He crouched down, softly calling to him. It took a minute, but he saw the tail start wagging, tentatively, and then the little dog crawled out and crept close to him. He gave Petey a good loving up, and knew he was forgiven when he got a face full of dog slobber.  
  
If only it were always that easy...  
  
He stepped out of the camp shower behind the trailer and toweled off. He felt better, but only physically. He could still hear Hannibal's voice, accusing, blaming. Hannibal had never been that angry at him before. Not that he blamed him. It had been cruel.  
  
But necessary.  
  
He kept telling himself that. The team couldn't have functioned if he had stayed. They'd been falling apart, and it was his fault. He knew he'd done the right thing. He knew it. The team was here, together, doing a job.  
  
They were working again. Together. That's what mattered. That's all that mattered.  
  
He'd just gotten dressed when Petey stood, stiffened, growled. Face looked out the window. In the distance, he could just make out someone - no, two someone's - walking. Coming toward the trailer. He frowned. Nobody came out here. And where had they come from? There was nothing out there. Just desert. Not even nature lovers went out there.  
  
He got a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. People. Coming here. There would only be one reason for that. He should've had Charlie take him into the city right away. Dropped off Hannibal and gone to the city. Taken care of them, right away.  
  
Now they were here. Coming for him.  
  
How? How had they found him? Didn't matter. He had to get ready. Now. Now.  
  
He pulled the key out of his pocket. A storage locker at the bus depot. Everything was in there. They couldn't get that key. He looked around. They might search the place. He didn't know how much they knew of his activities.  
  
Petey growled again.  
  
Oh, God. Petey. They'd want him to sign over the rights. He couldn't. He wouldn't. They would use force. They would use leverage.  
  
They would use Petey.  
  
He looked at the key again. Quickly, he grabbed a pen and piece of paper. Scribbled on it. Grabbing a roll of duct tape, he softly called Petey to him and secured the key and note to his collar. Hurrying to the front door, he opened it.  
  
"Find Charlie, Petey. Go find Charlie!"  
  
It was a game they had played many times. Charlie would head off into the desert. Face would give him five, ten minutes and then send Petey to find him. He always did. One time Charlie bet him that Petey couldn't follow him in the jeep.  
  
He'd lost.  
  
Petey took off, running fast and furious down the trail to where Charlie always parked the jeep. When he didn't find Charlie there, he'd follow the jeep. Petey was tenacious. Stubborn.  
  
Safe.  
  
Face shut the door and looked out the back window. The two men were closer now. Walking up, casually. Just hikers.  
  
Face pulled on his eye patch. The battered hat. Stepped out the back door. Made sure the men saw him. Started running.  
  
Out into the desert.


	25. Chapter 25

Charlie was driving fast, but not as fast as on the way down. He needed some time to think. More time than the drive would give him. He had no idea what he was going to say to Ed to make up for the harsh words Smith had battered him with.  
  
Strangely enough, he no longer felt angry at the colonel; he could understand the shock he must have felt, seeing his "dead" lieutenant like that. He could even understand the anger. He'd felt much the same way, when he'd first heard of the fake suicide from Sandy. He'd almost refused to let Ed come at that point. But then Charlie had realized how desperate he must have been to go to that extreme.  
  
What Charlie really could not understand was how someone like Ed had ever connected with people like Smith and those other two. Frankly, until Nick had investigated the A-Team, Charlie had harbored some niggling doubts about Ed's story. After all, Ed lived in a sort of fantasy world, anyway. And it wouldn't be unheard of for someone like him to make up a story about belonging to some macho group. A Walter Mitty thing. But Ed had been too detailed, too...emotionally involved. Nick's report had only validated things for Charlie.  
  
Still...  
  
There was just no way he could picture John "Hannibal" Smith choosing Ed to be on his team.  
  
So involved was Charlie in his thoughts, he almost didn't see the dog running down the path. He only spotted him at the last minute, and swerved the jeep sharply, slamming on the brakes. It came to a rest at a bit of an angle on the side of the ravine, and Charlie scrambled out.  
  
"Petey!"  
  
The dog, intent on following the trail, came to skidding halt, looking surprised. A second later he had launched himself at Charlie, joy and triumph in his eyes.  
  
"Petey, what the hell...?"  
  
Charlie stared at the wiggling animal, a bad feeling building. Petey wouldn't just run away. He had been sent, sent after Charlie.  
  
Something was wrong.  
  
Something was seriously wrong...  
  
*****  
  
He started out with a hard sprint, running at a ninety degree angle to the intruders' path. The distance and element of surprise gave him a pretty good lead, but he didn't want to lose them just yet. He was buying time, now. Time for Petey to find Charlie. Time for Charlie to get to Hannibal. Time for the team to be on its way to the locker. The longer he could keep these guys moving, the less time they'd have to 'persuade' him to sell.  
  
Self-preservation.  
  
A minute of hard running, and he started slowing down. He had to pace himself now, bring his breathing down, keep just far enough ahead of them to give them hope. He knew they would close the gap somewhat at first, but that was all right. Eventually they would begin to tire. If he was lucky, they would give up entirely, let him run off into the desert and safety...  
  
He smiled grimly. Charlie thought all he'd been doing out here was collecting bones...  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal had effectively shut down any discussion of his meeting with Ed Mordake. No matter how hard Murdock tried to slip past his guard, Hannibal blocked him. Which didn't bother Murdock quite so much as the tone of voice he used.  
  
He was almost gentle about it. Like he was when Murdock was out of it, or coming close. Like he had to protect him, for some reason.  
  
Why the hell would he act like that?  
  
Murdock wandered out of the cabin, leaving Hannibal to his planning. The team was going to pay a little visit to Sinon Corporation later that morning, through the front door, no doubt. Murdock wasn't sure he really wanted to. Which surprised him. He had tried to build up his old enthusiasm for the mission, but it just wasn't coming together for him. He didn't think he was the only one, either.  
  
Hannibal had mouthed the right words about his plan, and had acted normally...acted being the key word. Murdock had missed one thing.  
  
No jazz.  
  
No spark in his eye.  
  
Hannibal was just going through the motions.  
  
*****  
  
He glanced behind him. The two men were still there, one a bit ahead of the other. He noticed, not with a little concern, that they, too, seemed to have found their pace. Apparently, he was not going to be as lucky as he'd hoped.  
  
He stared straight ahead of him. He knew where he was going. Even if these guys managed to keep up with him, he still had a chance to get away. It was a little chancy, using a box canyon, but he knew the way out. He just had to make sure the guys behind him didn't get any closer.  
  
His breathing was still good. He picked up the pace, just a hair...  
  
*****  
  
Charlie had immediately taken the dog into the jeep and started up to the trailer. He held onto the dog's collar to keep him from bouncing out. The earlier reluctance to arrive too quickly was replaced by a strong feeling of urgency.  
  
And then he felt it.  
  
He tried to look while navigating and finally gave up. Once again, he pulled the jeep to an abrupt halt and concentrated on the collar. Something was taped to it. He struggled for a moment, and finally removed the collar and peeled off the tape.  
  
Underneath the tape was a small piece of paper, wrapped in aluminum foil, and a key. Charlie squinted at the tiny printing. There was an address and a number. A short sentence.  
  
"Go there NOW!"  
  
For a moment, Charlie was torn. He knew something had happened to Ed. He also knew that if Ed had gone to all this trouble, he meant what he said in the note. Charlie stared up the path, in the direction of the trailer. Reluctantly, he turned the jeep around and headed back to the village. Somehow, he knew he needed Smith.  
  
*****  
  
He made a sudden turn, and another sprint into the canyon. Taken by surprise, his pursuers fell further behind. It gave him the time he needed. Running full throttle now, he fixed his sights on an outcropping of rocks, some ten feet above the floor of the canyon. Enough speed and he could literally run up the side of the canyon to those rocks. Once there, he'd have enough cover to work his way to the top of the canyon. Not an easy climb, but do-able. For a man, anyway. Many animals spent their last moments here, discovering, too late, that the climb was too much for their small bodies.  
  
It was a favorite spot of his.  
  
*****  
  
"Hannibal!"  
  
There was an urgency to Murdock's voice that immediately got Hannibal's attention. He practically dropped the coffee cup on the table as he hurried to the door. He got to Murdock's side as Charlie's jeep came to a skidding halt in front of them.  
  
"Smith! Ed sent me a note. I think he's in trouble, but..." Obviously shaken, Charlie stumbled out of the jeep, holding the note and key out to Hannibal.  
  
Hannibal grabbed them, quickly reading the note, Murdock looking over his shoulder.  
  
"He sent this to you?"  
  
Charlie nodded. "Taped it to Petey's collar. I found him on the way out there. I didn't go to the trailer - the note sounded...urgent..." Charlie looked suddenly uncertain. "Maybe I should've gone up there..."  
  
"No, you did the right thing. You know where this address is?"  
  
"More or less. It's in the city."  
  
"Okay. BA, you and I will go out to the trailer. Murdock, you and Charlie head into town. Call us in the van when you find whatever it is Ff...Ed wanted you to find."  
  
Murdock gave Hannibal a puzzled glance, but Charlie was already heading back for the jeep, and he hurried to join him. A small white dog hopped into the back, laying quietly on the seat. Murdock smiled at him, and was rewarded by a small tail wag.  
  
Moments later, there was only a lingering cloud of dust in front of the cabin.  
  
*****  
  
His moves were nearly perfect. They should be. He'd done this so many times now. Hated to think about the first few times. He'd gotten more than a few bruises, slipping and sliding down the rocky slope, before he finally found the right path. In seconds, he was scrambling among the rocks, trying to keep to the larger ones that afforded more cover.  
  
He hadn't bothered to check on the men. He was committed now, regardless of how close or how far they were. Knowing the way, he would gain even more time while they scrambled around, trying to find their footing.  
  
He heard it. Strange, how that worked. He heard it, but never felt it. Not even a little twinge. Instead, he suddenly found himself falling, his left leg useless. He hit the rocks hard, and slid down a few feet. It took a few seconds before he realized that he'd been shot. That wasn't right. They needed his signature. How could they chance shooting him, for chrissake?  
  
Such idiots.  
  
Hardly seemed fair...  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal looked down at the trailer, BA close beside him. It looked quiet enough. No sign of anyone. Anyone at all.  
  
His first thought when he'd read the note was that someone had come after Face. He hadn't thought there would be any other reason for the hasty scribbling, the urgency. Now, seeing no sign of trouble, no other vehicles, he was having second thoughts.  
  
Thoughts he didn't like. Thoughts about the hell he'd given Face earlier that day. Letting his anger override the relief, the joy, at finding him alive. Sure, he'd said he was glad, but he knew it hadn't sounded that way.  
  
And then they'd left. Left Face alone. God knew what he must have felt like after that. What he must have been thinking...  
  
No. Oh, no.  
  
Maybe the note hadn't been urgent so much as timed. Maybe there was a reason Face wanted Charlie - and the team - to go into town. Before they had time to think, before they could decide to come back to the trailer. Before they could stop him...  
  
Hannibal felt a freezing cold come from deep inside. He started down to the trailer. Walking fast. Faster. Running. He burst through the door, saw the empty room, pushed out the back door. Looked wildly around the empty yard.  
  
"Oh, God, Face, where are you? What did you do?"  
  
"Hannibal?"  
  
BA. Right behind him. Puzzled. Hannibal realized then he'd spoken out loud.  
  
"Hannibal, what's goin on? What's Face gotta do with this?"  
  
*****  
  
Murdock held tightly to the note as the jeep raced down the highway. He had the perfect opportunity to pump Charlie for information, to ask the questions that had been surrounding him since they arrived. And yet, he couldn't open his mouth.  
  
He opened the note one more time. Looked at it. The address had been printed. The message scribbled in longhand. He stared at it. The longer he studied it, the more sure he was. The more confused he was. Yet there was no doubt in his mind.  
  
That was Face's handwriting...


	26. Chapter 26

"What the hell did you do that for? You coulda killed him, you moron!"  
  
'My sentiments exactly.' Face opened his eye, looking through a haze of dust. He couldn't see the men, but their voices were close. Too close.  
  
Damn.  
  
"I shot low! Damned if I was gonna go climbing around like some damn mountain goat. Besides, now he knows we mean business."  
  
"I think he knew that all ready." There was second's pause before the voice continued. "Well, smart guy, how you gonna get him down from there? And back to the boss?"  
  
The pause this time was longer.  
  
"Shit."  
  
"Yeah, shit, bright boy. All right, look. You shot him, you get him. I'll head back to the chopper and meet you at the top of the canyon."  
  
"The top? Christ, Mitch..."  
  
"If you think I'm tryin to land that bird down here, you're dumber than I thought. Now get your ass up there and make sure he's alive. And make sure he stays that way."  
  
Face could hear shuffling footsteps echoing softly against the canyon walls. The pilot. A chopper. The chopper. The one he'd seen or heard almost daily, off in the distance. It had never come over his way before. Sinon's people must have followed Charlie, somehow.  
  
He heard some scrambling below him. The other guy, trying to find his way up. That would take some time. He'd never found any pathway; only momentum could get a person up far enough to even start the climb. So he was safe for a while.  
  
He tried moving, thinking he could crawl away, find a hiding place. Or maybe find a rock or branch to fight the guy off. Something. Anything was better than lying here, waiting. But the first movement brought a sharp burning pain just above his knee, in the fleshy part of his leg. It took his breath away.  
  
And then the voice was back.  
  
"Don't even think of moving, buster. Not unless you want a bullet in the other leg."  
  
Face sighed, closed his eye, and waited. For a while, it had been like before - the game, him against the bad guys. He could almost feel the Jazz. When the bad guys were far away. Now...now, he was going to have to deal with this guy, up close and personal. And this guy was going to see him. See him for what he was. He felt the fear stirring inside.  
  
He couldn't get away from it. Edward Mordake, Alvin Brenner. It didn't matter. No matter what he called himself, he was as big a coward as Hannibal thought he was.  
  
*****  
  
"Face?" Hannibal tried to cover, knowing it would do no good. "I just misspoke, that's all. I meant Ed."  
  
Hannibal was right. BA wasn't buying it.  
  
"Then why you so uptight? You don't even like this Mordake guy." BA stepped up close, right in Hannibal's face. "What's going on, Hannibal? You been actin funny ever since you come back from here. Worse than before. So you tell me what happened up here last night. And I don't want no more lies! What happened with Mordake, and what's Face gotta do with it?"  
  
Hannibal stared into the angry face in front of him, stricken. How could he tell BA that Face was alive, after all? Or had been, until Hannibal had gotten through with him. Who knew, now? But if he was still alive, if he hadn't done anything yet, there was still a chance. A chance to save him. Really save him this time. A second chance for all of them.  
  
And Hannibal wanted that second chance.  
  
"Edward Mordake...is Face, BA. The suicide was faked. So he could...so we could all have a fresh start."  
  
BA stepped back. Instead of the anger Hannibal had felt at the news, BA looked worried. Almost afraid.  
  
"That ain't so, Hannibal. You know that ain't so. I know you miss him, and so do I, but you can't go makin up that he's alive, Hannibal. That won't do no good."  
  
"I'm not making it up, BA. I swear, he's alive. He was here, last night, and this morning. He's been pretending to be this Ed Mordake. He's been hiding here, BA, because he decided he couldn't live in the real world any more. He built his own little life here, where he didn't have to have people around him, where he didn't have to be reminded all the time of what he was and what he is.  
  
"Last night, when he realized I was here, it frightened him so badly...I frightened him, BA! If I were going to imagine Face being alive, would I imagine him that way?"  
  
BA was no longer looking worriedly at Hannibal. Now he looked confused, hurt...  
  
"This morning, I had the chance to talk to him, and, God forgive me, instead of grabbing that kid and making him understand how much a part of us he was, I let my anger get the best of me. I let him have it with both barrels, and then we left him up here, alone.  
  
"I'll tell you everything later, BA, but right now we have to find him. Before he...before he does it for real this time."  
  
Whatever BA was thinking, there was no telling. His face was completely calm. He turned, started looking around the trailer. Moments later, he stopped, and nodded at Hannibal, looking out toward the desert. Hannibal stepped over, saw the tracks.  
  
Three sets.  
  
"Now we know, Hannibal. So let's go get him before those guys do." BA's voice was soft, determined.  
  
Hannibal nodded, his chest tight. Together, they headed out into the desert.  
  
*****  
  
They were moving into the outskirts of the city. Charlie had asked for the address, and was concentrating on finding the right cross streets. Other than that, neither man had said anything for the entire twenty minute drive.  
  
"There it is." Charlie's voice was strained, hoarse. Murdock looked up, saw a huge bus station, filled with people and busses and taxi's. That didn't seem right. Why would Mordake come here if he was such a recluse...so phobic about people...  
  
So phobic he lived out in the middle of nowhere...so phobic he couldn't leave the apartment...  
  
"Charlie..."  
  
"Yeah?" Charlie was concentrating on finding his way through the throng of people and vehicles, looking for a place to park.  
  
"What does Ed look like?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, he's uh...hang on." Charlie slid the jeep into a parking slot, sighing. "I guess the key must be for a locker. Where the hell..." he leaned forward, looking out the windshield for some sign of a storage area.  
  
"Charlie?"  
  
"What? Oh, well..." Charlie remembered he'd promised Smith he wouldn't say anything, but now... He sighed, looked over at Murdock, wondering if the man could handle this. Nick's report had included the pilot for the team, and Charlie wasn't sure how stable he was, especially considering the state the other two were in.  
  
"Let me make it easy, okay?" Murdock wouldn't wait. He, too, stared straight ahead, but he wasn't looking at anything outside. "His face is badly scarred, the left side is paralyzed, and he's lost an eye. Probably wears an eye patch." He looked at Charlie. "How'm I doing?"  
  
Charlie looked down at his hands, drumming nervously on the steering wheel. Swallowed.  
  
"Very good, Mr. Murdock. You did very good, indeed."  
  
Murdock nodded, looked off to the side.  
  
"Okay. Okay. Okay..." Took a deep breath. "Let's go find that locker."  
  
His voice shook only a little.  
  
*****  
  
"Ahh, that ain't nothin. Just a flesh wound. And Mitch thought I didn't know what I was doin."  
  
Face felt rough hands checking his leg, felt something being wrapped tightly around the wound. Too tightly. He kept his eye closed, not wanting to look at the man. If he didn't see him, he didn't have to be there. Like an ostrich, in reverse.  
  
Then the guy grabbed his shoulder, rolling him over on his back. He turned his head sharply to the side, but it didn't matter.  
  
"Holy shit! What the hell...man, what happened to you? Geez." The man laughed. "God Almighty, but if that ain't the ugliest mug I ever saw. No wonder you hide out here. I wouldn't wanna be seen in public either, bud." Still laughing, the thug grabbed Face by the arms and jerked him up.  
  
For a moment, Face thought about fighting back. Maybe if he did, the guy would make a mistake, and Face would end up at the bottom of the canyon. Maybe...  
  
"C'mon, bud. That leg ain't that bad. Let's move it."  
  
No, he couldn't move. He couldn't. He just wanted to sit there, hide within himself. He didn't exist. He thought about his friends, back at the trailer. Maybe they would tell these guys to leave him alone. Maybe they would protect him. Scare these guys off. Maybe...  
  
A hard slap to the face brought him out of his daze. It hurt. God, it hurt. The scars weren't totally healed over yet, and the skin was sensitive as hell. Not to mention his jaw, which still ached many days.  
  
"Get up, damn it!"  
  
He tried. But he felt dizzy, confused. He wanted to be back at his trailer. Back with his friends. His friends didn't think he was ugly. They didn't laugh at him. He wanted...  
  
Another slap to the face. This one hit his eye. No, hit his eye-that-wasn't. He felt the plastic eyepiece jab the bone on the side.  
  
Oh, God...  
  
He heard the helicopter in the distance. No, no, it was coming to get him. To take him to his enemies. Deliver him unto evil...  
  
He felt the man grab him by the back of his shirt and start dragging him. Dragging him over the rocks, the brush. He tried to get up, tried to stop him, but the man just kept dragging him. The front of his shirt was up tight against his throat. He pulled at it, reached up, tried to grab the man's hands.  
  
The man let go, and he fell to the ground. Then the man had him again, this time by the front of the shirt.  
  
"Now you gonna get up, Ugly? Huh?"  
  
Felt himself shook like a dog shakes a rag. Nearly in tears, he nodded, and pulled his right leg under him, pushing up when the man pulled on his shirt. He was supported only by a hand gripping his left arm like an iron vise. They climbed over the rocks, up the steep rise of the canyon, moving slowly, painfully for the top.  
  
After a while, Face faded away. His body kept moving, but his mind was back at his trailer, and he played with Petey, and talked with his friends, and everything was fine, just as it had always been.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal and BA hadn't gone far when they heard the chopper. Quickly taking cover under a Joshua tree, they watched as it sailed overhead, close to the ground, heading west. The Sinon logo was clearly visible on the side.  
  
BA looked at Hannibal, frustrated.  
  
"We can't outrun that, Hannibal. They gotta have him or they wouldn't'a sent that out."  
  
Hannibal had to agree. Frustrated, angry, he felt something inside he hadn't felt in a long time, not since the camps. It wasn't the Jazz.  
  
And it wasn't good.  
  
*****  
  
It had taken some time to find the public lockers, and longer to find the one they were looking for. Charlie was getting more and more tense, while Murdock seemed to be working on automatic pilot. He was methodical and determined. When they finally found it, he inserted the key calmly and opened the locker.  
  
Inside the locker was a paper grocery sack, and in the sack were papers. A thick bundle of papers. Murdock thumbed through the first few, and went pale.  
  
"What's the matter? What are they?" Charlie was practically shaking.  
  
Murdock gulped. "I don't know exactly, Charlie, but we gotta get back to Hannibal. Now."  
  
Without another word, Murdock grabbed the bag, holding it tightly to his chest, and headed back to the jeep, Charlie not a step behind. They stopped only long enough for Murdock to use a payphone to call Hannibal, leaving a message on the van's phone. Minutes after that, Charlie pulled the jeep away from the bus station, and was heading back to the village, fast.  
  
Murdock's mind was in a turmoil. If the rest of the papers were in the same vein as those first few, he understood why Sinon was so intent on getting those mineral rights. Why they would want to cloak their activities as normal, legal mining activities. One word had jumped out at him. Had scared the shit out of him. And made him fear for the life of the man in the middle of all of it.  
  
Uranium.


	27. Chapter 27

Face's body went the way of his mind just before the top of the canyon. One moment he was limping painfully along in the grip of his enemy, the next he was lying on the hard ground, air blue with his captor's anger, his side battered by the man's boot.  
  
The assault ended abruptly when Mitch grabbed his partner and shoved him away. Angry words were exchanged, but it was short-lived. Moments later, the two men dumped Face's body unceremoniously into the back of the chopper, and the big bird lifted off in a cloud of sand and debris.  
  
It flew fast and furiously across the desert. No one in the chopper noticed the black van racing through the brush toward the village.  
  
*****  
  
Charlie hadn't asked Murdock a single question on the way back to the village. He knew, just from the captain's reaction, that whatever was in those papers was dangerous, and that told him he would get no information until the rest of the team was there to hear it. He was praying that they would arrive back at the village and Smith would have found Ed safe and sound, but somehow he knew better. He gripped the steering wheel a little harder and pushed down on the accelerator.  
  
The twenty-minute drive seemed to take twice that, and Charlie pulled up in front of his cabin only moments before the black van slid to a stop. The four men, grim-faced and angry, trooped into the cabin, BA taking a last glance around to see if they were being watched. Satisfied, he stepped inside, taking his post at the door, where he could see anyone approaching.  
  
Hannibal waited impatiently as Charlie swept the table clear and pulled it into the middle of the room. Murdock placed the bag on the corner and pulled the contents out, starting to sort them carefully. Hannibal took the first bundle and began running through it. As soon as he placed one sheet on the table, Charlie picked it up and read. Murdock took up where Charlie left off. BA would glance at the silent group now and then; he didn't need to read anything. Hannibal would tell him what he needed to know so they could get Face and bring down Sinon.  
  
BA had tried not to let Hannibal see what his bombshell had done to him. He was trying hard not to think about it. All he wanted to concentrate on now was the rescue. Hannibal would come up with a plan and they would go in the front door and that would be that. That Sinon bunch would be taken out, and Face would be back with them where he belonged, and then...  
  
BA scowled, and tried to concentrate on keeping watch. He wasn't stupid enough to think that things would go back to the way they used to be. If Face had gone to all that trouble to get away from them, he wouldn't just come back to them. He must really hate them. Not without reason. Look what they had done to him.  
  
Look what BA had done to him.  
  
*****  
  
The blackness faded to gray, and he could hear voices behind him. Slowly, carefully, he raised his head, opened his eye, looked around, trying to get his bearings. It took only a moment for him to see he was in some kind of office. A large window to his right looked out on the city. From very high up.  
  
Damn.  
  
"Hey, looks like Ugly's awake, boss." God, he hated that voice. He was suddenly swung around in the chair, making him gasp as the room spun, literally.  
  
"Feeling better, Mr. Mordake? I apologize for Andy. He gets a little 'involved' in his work." The voice was deep, cultivated, the chuckle more menacing than humorous. "Of course, if you hadn't run like you did, we might have been able to work things out more comfortably."  
  
"I doubt that." He tried to make his voice strong and confident, but could barely speak above a whisper. His whole face was aching, his ribs felt like spaghetti, and his leg burned. He looked up at the man standing in front of him, and the coldness in the eyes that looked back at him made him wince.  
  
He knew what he had to do. He had to keep buying time, time for the guys to check out the documents, realize what they had, and then get it all to the proper people. Time enough, at least, for them to figure out how much danger they were in if Sinon found out what they had.  
  
Hell, there was no 'if'. These guys would find out what Face had uncovered, and who had it. He knew that. There was no way he would be able to keep it from them. He wasn't strong enough to fight them for long. Already, he could feel the tremors of fear running through his body. These guys would do whatever necessary to make him sign over those mineral rights, and in so doing, he would spill the beans. He just hoped he'd have the guts to last long enough. He'd never know, of course. He didn't expect he'd be around long enough to be rescued, even if the guys could figure out where he was.  
  
He again looked up at the man standing in front of him. He swallowed, hard.  
  
This was going to hurt...  
  
*****  
  
"Does this mean what I think it does, Colonel?"  
  
Hannibal sat back from the table, running a hand over his face. He looked up at Charlie, weary and worried.  
  
"If you mean, is Sinon planning on secretly mining high grade uranium, processing it and shipping it overseas, yeah, that's exactly what it means, Charlie."  
  
"How do they expect to get away with it? The government..."  
  
"The government would think they were mining rare minerals for electronics use. They have their inspectors picked out for bribes, their processing plant refitted, the customs people targeted, transport arranged. Their customer has already paid a huge advance. Everything's ready to go - all they need is the legitimacy of those mineral rights to keep anyone from getting suspicious.  
  
"And now they have Face..." Hannibal stopped, blanching as he looked at Murdock. Charlie had the same strained look as he glanced at BA.  
  
"It's okay, Colonel. I recognized his handwriting." Murdock looked down at the table, shuffling papers.  
  
"And I told BA out at the trailer." Hannibal sighed.  
  
"Well, at least we don't have to pussy-foot around that any more." Charlie tried to smile, but it didn't go very far.  
  
"Murdock, are you okay?" Hannibal frowned at the pilot, who was still messing with the papers.  
  
"Yeah, Hannibal. Let's just worry about getting Face right now, okay?" Murdock spoke a little too quickly, but he looked up, finally. "Any idea where they might have taken him?"  
  
"None. All we know is they probably picked him up in a chopper."  
  
Murdock brightened. "Really? Their own?"  
  
Hannibal caught the tone in Murdock's voice. "Yeah, company bird. Why?"  
  
Murdock looked over at Charlie. "Sinon got their own airfield? Or a hangar somewhere?"  
  
Charlie was catching on now, and smiled, evilly. "They've got their own airfield, just a few miles outside the city."  
  
Murdock grinned, and the others started grinning back.  
  
"So, what are we waiting for?"  
  
*****  
  
He was lying on the floor now, in the corner of the office. He'd managed to crawl there after the men had left, trying to stay conscious. He didn't know why he wanted to move at all, but some instinct made him seek a place where his back was protected. That's all he was doing now. Acting on instinct.  
  
He coughed, and blood flew out onto the carpet in front of him. He felt sick to his stomach, dizzy. The boss, whatever his name was, had let Andy have at it when Face had refused to sign. The guy wasn't one for patience. Andy had him for a while, and then the boss would make him stop long enough to catch his breath. As soon as Face could talk enough to refuse them once again, the beating had started again.  
  
After the third round, Face had told them about the documents. He was able to hold back about Charlie and the guys, but these guys knew they were running out of time now. They needed to know where the papers were, how to get them, and Face wouldn't tell them.  
  
Not yet.  
  
Apparently, the boss had grown concerned now that they'd end up killing him before he could tell them what they needed to know, thus the respite. Give him time to think things over. Give him time to hurt in peace.  
  
But they'd be back. And it would start all over again. He reached up, trying to wipe the blood from his face. Much of the scarred skin had broken open again. The eye patch was gone, as was the conformer, broken when Andy had backhanded him...the second time, the hundredth time?  
  
He kept hearing that bastard's voice.  
  
"What's the matter, Ugly? Cat got your tongue? Let's loosen it up, huh, Ugly?"  
  
He knew the guy was doing it deliberately. Andy really wasn't as dumb as he seemed. He wasn't just a muscle man. He knew how to hit below the belt mentally as well. And Face knew he shouldn't let him.  
  
He couldn't help it. He couldn't fight it any more.  
  
He couldn't fight any of it any more.  
  
*****  
  
Mitch was leaning back in his chair, smiling over the centerfold. How the hell did they do that stuff? Amazing. Absolutely amazing...  
  
Then he was looking up at the ceiling, his head ringing from the impact with the floor. He tried to get up, only then realizing there was a boot on his chest. He blinked hard, and focused on a massive black guy standing above the boot, glaring a hole through his soul. A second later and a silver-haired guy with a smile that made his skin crawl was looking down at him.  
  
"You must be Mitch. I'm Hannibal Smith. This is BA Baracus. BA for Bad Attitude. You don't want to make him any madder than he already is, so I suggest you tell me where you took Mr. Mordake. And quickly."  
  
Mitch not only told the guy where Mordake was, he told them how to get there. And a whole lot more...  
  
*****  
  
Charlie ran the jeep partway up on the curb, barely remembering to put it in park before leaping out. He reached into the back and pulled out the box they'd put the precious documents in. Clutching it tightly, he hurried up the sidewalk toward the massive building. It was supposed to be a two hour drive to Vegas; he'd whipped it down to nearly half that. He glanced back at the highway patrol officer and waved, gratefully. He was more than glad he'd taken time to call in a couple of markers before heading out. Having a police escort had cleared the road in more ways than one.  
  
Now he just had to hope that his contacts had cleared the way through the bureaucracy at the NRC as well.  
  
*****  
  
"Now, remember, guys. This has to be quick, and it has to be quiet. If they have any inkling we're on the way, Face is as good as dead."  
  
"We ain't dumb, Hannibal. Let's git."  
  
Hannibal glanced over at Murdock. The pilot still seemed on a high from the helicopter ride over here, and BA's nerves were raw. Neither man was in the state of mind Hannibal wanted for this kind of maneuver, but he had to take it on faith that they would do their job. He forced himself to calm down. He had to remember they were a team, they were in sync, they would do this right.  
  
He nodded, and BA opened the door leading down from the rooftop helipad. Hannibal hoped to God that Mitch bastard hadn't lied about the security codes...  
  
*****  
  
"Well, Mr. Mordake. I trust you've had ample time to reconsider. I want those documents. I want them now. Otherwise, I'm afraid I'll have to let Andy talk things over with you again. You don't want that, do you?"  
  
Face looked over at the feet of his enemies. He couldn't raise his head enough to look up. He couldn't open his mouth enough to talk. That was good. That was good. He couldn't tell them anything if he couldn't talk. He couldn't betray the team...  
  
He felt himself jerked to his feet. His knees were rubber, he shook all over. Whether from the beatings or from fear, he had no idea. He knew he was afraid. Deathly afraid. He wished Andy would finish him off. Get it over with. He knew he would, in the end. Whether he told them everything or not...  
  
It would be quicker if he told them. Then he wouldn't feel anything any more. Get it over with. Maybe they'd be merciful, just put a bullet in his brain. He hoped they would. There were so many ways they might do it.  
  
God, let it be a bullet.  
  
Please.  
  
He felt the blow, whipping his head to the side.  
  
"Where is it, Mr. Mordake?" Calm, low voice. "Where is it?"  
  
His head slammed against the wall.  
  
"Tell me, and it'll all be over, Mr. Mordake."  
  
He felt the heavy ring on Andy's finger tear across his cheek. Tears started falling. He couldn't help it.  
  
He couldn't stop them.  
  
"Tell me."  
  
"Tell me."  
  
"Tell me."  
  
The words started coming from his swollen, bleeding lips.  
  
He couldn't stop them.


	28. Chapter 28

The stairwell from the helipad opened onto a small entryway. Other than an elevator door and security camera, it was empty. BA closed the door softly and turned back to Hannibal.  
  
"Camera's lookin right at the door, Colonel."  
  
"I knew it. Didn't I say..."  
  
"Yeah, Colonel, you said he was leavin somethin out. So we gonna move or not?"  
  
Hannibal grinned. Despite himself, he found a familiar feeling seeping into his brain. It felt good. He looked over his shoulder at Murdock, who stood on the step above him. "You ready, Murdock?"  
  
"Shore am, Colonel." He grinned down at him, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.  
  
"Don't blow it, man..." BA gave him that look again, the same look he'd given him when he'd busted him out to see Face in the hospital. Murdock quit bouncing.  
  
BA and Hannibal stood back against the wall as Murdock stepped through the door. He looked around, looked directly up at the camera, and smiled. A cold, calculated smile. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an ID card. They were gambling that the camera couldn't detect the photocopy of Mitch's badge, with the photo from Murdock's VA ID card covering the original.  
  
A cold metallic voice came from somewhere in the ceiling.  
  
"Where's Mitch?"  
  
Murdock got a disgruntled look on his face, still looking up at the camera. "Dumb ass slipped on some grease in the hangar, twisted his ankle. Ask me, he was payin too much attention to his girlie magazine."  
  
A soft chuckle came from the hidden speaker. "Okay, I'll buzz the elevator for you. Tell Mitch to keep his mind off his crotch from now on."  
  
The was a soft purring noise, and the elevator door slid open. Murdock stepped toward it. Once under the camera, he whipped the Polaroid from under his jacket, held it high, and snapped a picture. This was the real tricky part. Holding the elevator door with his foot, Murdock slipped the photo into the little frame BA had fashioned, and reached up toward the camera. He took a deep breath, and quickly hooked his cap over the camera. A second later, the frame was attached to the camera, the photo resting a few inches in front of it. Making a hurried adjustment to straighten the photo, Murdock whipped his cap up and off the camera.  
  
He held his breath.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Whipping off his jacket, he wound it into a ball and placed it in the elevator door. Stepping quietly back into the entryway, he watched as the door slowly slid together, stopping just shy of closing as it pressed on the jacket. Seconds later, Hannibal and BA joined him back in the elevator, guns ready as it slid from floor to floor.  
  
They stopped on the fifth floor, where Mitch had said his boss, Les, had his offices. Hannibal tapped in the security code the pilot had given them. Miraculously, the door opened, and they stepped into a long hallway.  
  
Hannibal grinned at his team. Now all they had to do was find Face and get him the hell out of there.  
  
Piece of cake.  
  
*****  
  
Charlie sat impatiently in the office, where he had been waiting for almost an hour. Every now and then he glanced behind him, looking through the glass wall at the men going over the papers he'd turned over. A half-dozen of them now, at least two talking on telephones at any one time. He had expected them to go over the papers, but hadn't expected them to study each and every one before deciding to actually do something. It seemed so obvious to him what Sinon was doing...  
  
"Calm down, Charlie. You know how these things work. Nothing's changed." He knew, all right. Way too many years in the field, dealing with the desk jockeys who wanted to run things no matter how inexperienced. Dot every "i", cross every "t" - and, in the meantime, the bad guys ran amok. He'd run fast and hard from all that shit.  
  
And now he was right back in the middle of it.  
  
"Mr. Hewitt?" One of the agents was standing in the doorway.  
  
"Yes? Are you about done with your shenanigans in there? When are you going after these guys?"  
  
The agent smiled patiently. "We've already contacted the Department of Justice; they had agents on the way to Sinon corporate headquarters almost forty minutes ago, sir." He glanced at his watch. "They should be arriving in another ten to fifteen minutes."  
  
Abashed, Charlie had the grace to blush. "Sorry. I'm on a bit of a short fuse. They've got a friend of mine..."  
  
"We know, sir. That's the hitch. We can't just storm into the building, knowing that your friend may be in there as a hostage. We're going to have to do some recon first. And we need to bring in the FBI hostage negotiators..."  
  
Charlie shook his head. He hoped to hell Smith was able to fulfill his part of their plan. If not, Ed, and possibly the entire team, would be in deep, deep shit...and it wasn't Sinon Charlie was thinking of.  
  
*****  
  
Face was again on the floor. The man's voice was booming in his head, but he couldn't make out the words. He couldn't see, couldn't feel, couldn't move. He was just waiting. He no longer cared how they killed him. Just that they would do it soon.  
  
*****  
  
Les was talking on the phone to his man in the village. He wasn't happy. The contact hadn't seen everything, but he knew that Charlie had 'lit out like a bat out of hell' a couple of hours before; the other men had left shortly before that. Les gave him a few terse orders and dropped the phone down.  
  
"Andy, take the men over to the village and gather everybody together. I'm pretty sure we're fucked, but I want some insurance. We may need a ticket out of the country; a whole village of hostages ought to pay for the ticket quite nicely."  
  
"What about Sinon?"  
  
"What about them? They knew the costs when they hired us. They're on their own now."  
  
"And him?" Andy toed Face in the shoulder. There was no response at all.  
  
"I'll call Mitch; we'll dump him over the desert on the way, and then meet you at Hewitt's."  
  
Andy nodded and headed out the door. Les looked down at Face, disgusted. The guy had held out longer than he'd expected, but guys like him would always fold. No intestinal fortitude. He picked up the phone to call his pilot.  
  
Andy came back into the office just as he was dialing.  
  
"What the...? I told you..."  
  
"I know, boss, but..."  
  
"But he ran into a little interference." Hannibal stepped out from behind Andy, gun pointed directly at Les' head. BA and Murdock came in right behind them, guns ready, faces grim.  
  
Les smiled, unfazed. He still held the trump card. A small pistol slid down his sleeve into his hand. He only had to move his arm slightly to point it at Face.  
  
"Looks like he's not the only one..."  
  
*****  
  
Charlie was once again on the road, once again accompanied by a police escort. This time, he rode in the back of the unmarked vehicle, while an FBI agent drove his jeep. Until the people at Sinon were in custody, he was considered a witness, and a valuable one. Only he knew that there were three others who knew just as much as he did. He didn't know if letting the government in on that little secret would be helpful or harmful to the team, and he wasn't about to find out. Not without giving Smith and his men some say in the matter.  
  
The agent in charge, Wells, hadn't told him anything other than the basic facts as to what was going down, and his anxiety level was at a place it hadn't been for years. By the time they got back to his cabin, the FBI and DOJ would have been at Sinon's headquarters for well over an hour. Had they gone in, despite what Wells had said about Ed? Were they trying to negotiate his release? What about Smith and the other two? Were they prisoners? Were they caught in the middle, between the "bad guys", as Smith liked to call them, and the government agents? Were they already in federal custody? What would happen to Ed then? He'd never survive prison...  
  
Charlie shook his head, which was threatening to pound itself into his chest. If only Ed had confided in him sooner...  
  
*****  
  
BA hadn't even noticed the body on the floor. Not until that shiny little pistol pointed it out to him, shriveled up in the corner, facing the wall.  
  
Something washed through BA. A feeling, so strong, so overpowering, he almost physically felt it swell up inside him. An anger that was so much more than anger, a fury that went beyond all reason and sanity. Something he thought he had buried so deep it would never surface again, something he knew he could no longer control.  
  
Nor did he want to.  
  
With a swiftness that caught everyone by surprise, BA grabbed Andy and shoved him ahead of him as he shot across the room. He rammed Andy into Les with enough force to knock him several feet into the wall, Andy landing on top of him. The pistol flew out of Les' hand, sliding harmlessly off to the side. Immediately, Hannibal and Murdock were there, guns pointing at the fallen men, as BA continued his rush to the corner.  
  
Kneeling beside the prostrate body, he reached out, hesitating before gently touching the shoulder, looking at the bloodied face, the bruises already growing dark and angry. At his touch, a shudder ran through the body, and it seemed to BA that it shrank even more into itself. He looked up, to where the others had dragged the new prisoners to their feet. Hannibal and Murdock were looking murderously at the two, on edge, almost inviting them to make a move. The prisoners glared, first at the team, then at each other.  
  
"How is he, BA?" Hannibal's eyes never left Les.  
  
BA's eyes moved first to Les, then settled on Andy.  
  
"Who did this?" His voice was quiet, calm.  
  
"BA, how is he?" Hannibal hazarded a glance at him, somehow not liking what he'd heard. BA ignored him.  
  
"I said, who did this?"  
  
Les smiled, innocently. He raised his hands in the air, fingers splayed. "My hands are clean."  
  
Andy shot him an angry, disgusted look before turning to face BA, who was slowly standing up. Hannibal again glanced over at him.  
  
"BA..."  
  
"Outta my way, Hannibal." Still the calm, quiet voice, reflecting the look on his face as he stepped toward Andy.  
  
"BA, you can't..."  
  
"I said, outta my way, Colonel." BA firmly but gently pushed Hannibal to one side.  
  
Andy stepped back abruptly, causing Murdock to straighten, while fixing his weapon more firmly on his prisoner. BA kept walking toward Andy, and the other three men moved out of his way.  
  
"It was his orders, man! He's the one in charge!" Andy was angry, but also unnerved. He was about the same size as BA, but he'd never seen that look on any man's face before. He would have been more anxious if he knew that neither Hannibal nor Murdock had ever seen BA like this, either.  
  
"Don't matter. You hit him."  
  
And then BA returned the favor. And again, and again, and again...


	29. Chapter 29

The ferocity of the attack took Hannibal by surprise. He'd been dumbfounded by BA's behavior, but had, in the back of his mind, expected a couple of hard punches to the guy and that would be it. Instead, BA's blows took Andy back against the wall, where the hard fists kept pummeling, pounding the man's head and body. It took a moment before Hannibal realized he would have to stop BA or he might just kill the man.  
  
"Murdock!"  
  
Murdock jerked, as if he, too, had been mesmerized by BA's actions. Quickly, Hannibal tossed his gun to him and in three strides was behind BA, grabbing him around the shoulders. It was like trying to move a boulder.  
  
"BA! BA! Knock it off! That's an order, Sergeant!" He shouted right into BA's ear, tightening his grip until his arms ached. "BA! Stop it now!"  
  
Whether BA stopped because of Hannibal's shouting, or because he found it difficult to take a swing with his arms pinned, he finally did stop. He shook Hannibal off almost absently and stepped back, breathing hard. Andy slid to the floor, unconscious.  
  
"BA, what the hell were you doing?" Hannibal was breathing nearly as heavily as his sergeant, who blinked hard as if just waking up.  
  
"Hannibal..." Murdock's voice was warning. Hannibal looked over, saw Murdock had moved Les over to the window. He was glancing outside while trying to keep an eye on the prisoner. Les kept looking between the door and BA.  
  
"Sit down, slimeball." Les sat immediately. "What is it, Murdock?"  
  
"We got company, Colonel. Not military, but I'd say Charlie got his message through."  
  
Hannibal strode over to the window and looked down. Damn. If those weren't standard issue government cars gathering in the parking lot, he'd give up his birds. When the FBI assault van pulled in, Hannibal just shook his head.  
  
Damn.  
  
"Hannibal..." The colonel turned and looked at BA, who was back at Face's side, gently kneading his shoulder. "He ain't good, Hannibal. We gotta get him outta here."  
  
"They're coming in, Hannibal. A lot of 'em." Murdock tightened his grip on his rifle.  
  
Definitely time to make a strategic withdrawal. "BA, tie the jerk up, good and tight. Murdock, get up to the chopper and get ready to move."  
  
BA immediately yanked the cord off the desk lamp and advanced on Les. Murdock took one more look out the window before heading out the door. It was only then that Hannibal moved over to his lieutenant.  
  
Looking down, Hannibal could understand why BA had finally snapped. Face had been savagely beaten. If the feds weren't coming in the front door, Hannibal probably would have taken his turn, not only on Andy, but also on that smug piece of shit being tied up. But right now, his only concern was getting Face safely out of here. They would take him directly to Charlie's in the helicopter.  
  
BA came over, leaving Les tied and gagged next to the still unconscious Andy. "All set, Hannibal."  
  
"Okay, let's get the hell out of here." It was at that moment that the overhead lights flickered and died. The two men looked at each other for only a moment. They knew the siege was about to begin. If they didn't get out now, they might not have another chance.  
  
Together they carefully lifted Face and took him between them, out the door, down the hall, and into the stairwell. It was going to be a hard climb up five flights of stairs, and they had no idea if the FBI would be waiting for them there. It was likely they would see more than one government helicopter in the air once they took off. That was okay. Hannibal knew Murdock wouldn't let them follow for long. Not with the cargo they carried.  
  
Both men were breathing hard when BA pushed through the door to the roof. The gusts from the helicopter hit them like a hurricane, and Hannibal felt BA tighten his grip on Face.  
  
Moments later, they were in the air.  
  
Seconds later, three other helicopters surrounded them.  
  
Hannibal bent over and clumsily climbed into the passenger seat next to Murdock. BA sat in the back, holding Face next to him.  
  
"Okay, Murdock, do your thing. We have to get to Charlie's."  
  
"Rodger Dodger, Colonel. Hang onto your hats..."  
  
Immediately the bird increased the distance between itself and its pursuers. Seconds later, the gap shortened. Murdock was unperturbed. He knew there was no place over the desert where he could hide from these boys, so it would be a matter of out-maneuvering them enough times to finally slip away.  
  
In other words, he was going to make them dizzier than bedbugs...  
  
In the back, BA closed his eyes and clutched Face a little tighter. At least they would die together...  
  
*****  
  
He felt himself falling to one side and panic hit. This was it then. This was death coming. He braced for it. But then, just as suddenly, he felt strong arms around him, holding him still, stopping the fall. It felt...different. Not binding, just...safe.  
  
So very safe...he let himself drift back to the darkness...safe...safe...so this was death...  
  
*****  
  
Charlie paced his living room, stopping occasionally to stare out of the windows at the black sedan parked in front. Two men sat in the front seat; two more strolled around the outside of the cabin. He had no idea how many more were prowling the area, but he knew they were out there. Charlie was not only a witness against Sinon; he could be their target.  
  
Charlie had gotten no more news of the events at Sinon, even though he had seen the men in the car talking on the radio. He knew the feds figured his part in this affair was done; getting more information until it was completely over would be damn near impossible.  
  
Now, all he could do was worry about Ed and the others. If they had been found by the feds, how long before their real identities were discovered? If they had escaped, Charlie knew they would head back to the village - and end up again facing government agents.  
  
There really was only one place they could go and be safe, and that was Ed's trailer. Charlie had told the feds that Ed lived with him. That had raised a couple of eyebrows, but so be it. That trailer had to be their ace in the hole.  
  
But how the hell could he let Smith know that?  
  
*****  
  
"Murdock..."  
  
"Yeah, Colonel?"  
  
"I can't take much more of this..."  
  
"Okay, Colonel. Almost...there..." Murdock's arm moved on the stick, and, once more, the chopper lifted high in the air and swung back. Almost immediately, it dropped, swishing between the remaining two FBI helicopters as they scrambled to recover. Hannibal caught a quick glance of the two nearly colliding, and then Murdock had them flying low and fast over the desert.  
  
This time, the gap between pursued and pursuers did not close. In what seemed like seconds, there was nothing but two little dots high in the air, above and behind them. Hannibal heaved a heavy sigh of relief, and looked into the back.  
  
BA now had both arms wrapped firmly around Face, whose head lolled against his shoulder. BA's eyes were tightly closed, and Hannibal could swear the big mans' lips were moving. He smiled briefly, despite the situation, before turning back to the pilot.  
  
"Okay, Murdock, let's get to Charlie's."  
  
Murdock nodded, and gently swung the bird toward the village. He hadn't liked the way he'd jostled everyone around back there, but there was no other way to lose those guys. They'd been good, damn good, but he was better. And more motivated. The maneuvers had been fast and hard, designed to confuse and confound as quickly as possible. It had been hard on everyone, but it was over now. He would make the remainder of their journey as peaceful as he could.  
  
He wanted to look in the back, see how Face was, but he didn't. Just as he hadn't back there in the office. He wanted to see him, to verify that it was Face, that he was alive...but he couldn't look at him. Almost like if he did, Face might disappear again. Or worse. He knew, just from BA's cutting loose on that guy, and the way Hannibal was all business-like, that Face was in a bad way. So maybe, if Murdock didn't look, didn't see, then Face would be okay.  
  
Which was foolish, he knew. It wouldn't make any difference, if he looked or not. But until he knew, and knew for sure, that Face would be okay, he just wouldn't.  
  
Just to be safe.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal was watching the desert floor as they zoomed over it. He knew Murdock was taking the long route to Charlie's, first flying in the opposite direction and then circling back. It was dangerous, for Face, but necessary. There was still a chance the feds would be at Charlie's, but there was no point in leading them there. In the meantime, he had plans to make.  
  
The optimum was to get to Charlie's, find a doctor, and get Face looked at. Hannibal was quite sure Charlie could find a discreet doctor. After watching him in action, getting that police escort, Hannibal realized there was a lot more to the man than he liked people to believe. Hannibal also believed there was a reason for that pretense. But that was for another time.  
  
Hannibal also had to consider that the feds were, indeed, at Charlie's. It wasn't unreasonable to assume they would want to keep an eye on him. After all, he had somehow come across these papers. Who knew what other value he might be to the government? Hannibal never for a moment thought Charlie would have spilled the beans about the team. He would have had to tell them about Edward Mordake, but never about Templeton Peck. Never.  
  
So if the government was sticking close to Charlie, it was due to Sinon, not the A-Team. Hannibal intended to make sure things stayed that way.  
  
"Getting close, Colonel."  
  
Hannibal came out of his thoughts, looked ahead to where the first signs of the village were appearing.  
  
"Okay, Murdock, keep it high. If we see anything unusual, head west."  
  
"West?"  
  
"We'll swing over to the trailer. Charlie will look for us there if we don't show at his place."  
  
"Uh, what about Face? He needs a doctor, Hannibal."  
  
"I know, Murdock, I know. But until we get hold of Charlie, we'll just have to play it by ear."  
  
Hannibal didn't miss the clenched jaw, but reality was reality. The van was still hidden out by Sinon's airfield, and they couldn't just fly a chopper to a hospital without a lot of questions being asked.  
  
Reality was reality. Murdock would have to adjust.  
  
It was about time they all did.


	30. Chapter 30

Nick heard the helicopter off in the distance. So did the men who had come with Charlie. He watched them searching the sky as he walked steadily toward Charlie's cabin. He'd kept an eye on the comings and goings the last two days, and was almost as mystified as the rest of the residents. It bothered him that Charlie hadn't let him know what was going on. And that surprised him. He hadn't considered himself the jealous type. But he'd been a part of this whole scheme from the very beginning; it just didn't seem right to suddenly be out in the cold.  
  
He had to acknowledge that his dislike of Smith and the others wasn't helping his feelings any. The more he thought about it, the less inclined he was to see Ed belonging with them. And they didn't belong in the village. He'd heard people talking about them. About the way Smith had acted with those guys down at Queenie's. The consensus was that Charlie had gotten in over his head, that he never should have brought these men here. There was even a faction, a growing one led by the painter, Cal, that still wanted to sell the mineral rights over to Sinon and be done with it. Nick didn't like that, not so much about selling, but the idea that Charlie's leadership was being questioned.  
  
Charlie had never been a benevolent dictator. But he had started this community, and was, for all intents and purposes, the 'spiritual leader'. Decisions that affected the whole were handled by a town council, of sorts, but they almost always sought, and followed, Charlie's advice. It had worked well in the past. The community had thrived, while maintaining the core values that had originally brought everyone together.  
  
But things had changed, subtly, when Ed came. People were a little puzzled by him, but accepted his reclusiveness. The general feeling was that when he was ready, he would become a real part of the village, and, in the meantime, no one would intrude on his privacy. But then he had become involved with Sinon, and that same faction had started asking questions about him. About his past, where he had come from, why he had come here, what his intentions were.  
  
Now, with all the activity, and the obvious government men who had arrived with Charlie, tongues were wagging, fast and furious. Cal was the one doing most of the talking. Nick shook his head. He didn't generally dislike anyone, but Cal had rubbed him the wrong way from day one. He was gregarious enough, and Charlie seemed to like him, but then, Charlie liked everyone. If he didn't, they didn't get to stay. Nick sighed.  
  
Sometimes, even Charlie made mistakes.  
  
*****  
  
Charlie listened as the helicopter noise came closer. Two FBI agents came in the door, guns drawn, but held casually. He regarded them with a calm face, though his heart was beating hard and fast.  
  
"Gentlemen?"  
  
"We may have company, sir. Just a precaution."  
  
"What...oh, the helicopter? Don't worry about that. It flies overhead a couple times a day. I think it's some tourist thing."  
  
The two agents looked at each other before looking back at Charlie. Skeptical. Charlie smiled, maintaining his calm.  
  
"We should probably verify that, sir. I hope you won't take offense..."  
  
"No, no, not at all." Charlie knew full well they wouldn't be able to verify anything. That didn't matter. As long as Smith saw the cars...  
  
One agent left, the other moved toward the back window, looking intently over the landscape. Charlie moved to the cabinet by the table, calmly pulling out the bottle of scotch. He had to force his hand not to shake as he poured a fairly large glass. Drinking slowly, he listened as the helicopter came closer and closer.  
  
Then the noise faded away.  
  
Sighing, Charlie downed the remainder of the Scotch. And poured another.  
  
*****  
  
"Bogies down below, Colonel." Murdock immediately began a slow turn away from the village, heading west.  
  
Hannibal looked down, barely able to make out the vehicles scattered around the village. Murdock was right. There were cars there that obviously did not belong to the run-down flotilla of the village. He sighed, glanced back at BA and Face. BA had calmed down, but Face was starting to stir. He looked over at Murdock.  
  
"Keep going west. It's a couple miles out, not far."  
  
Murdock merely nodded, eyes focused on the desert flowing below him. It took only a couple of minutes before he saw the small dark spot pass beneath them in the middle of the bright sand.  
  
"Got it, Colonel."  
  
Hannibal nodded as Murdock brought the bird back around and began slowly dropping to the ground. Moments later, he and BA were carefully maneuvering Face out of the chopper, as Murdock ran ahead to prepare the trailer.  
  
Face was definitely starting to wake up, and he was in pain. He moaned as they got him between them in a seat lift and started moving toward the trailer. The more aware he became, the more he began to struggle.  
  
"Easy, Face, easy. I got ya, man." BA kept his voice low and soothing. "You safe now, okay? You safe."  
  
"BA?" The voice was barely audible, and hoarse.  
  
"Yeah, Face, it's me."  
  
There was another small moan, and Face slumped down in their arms. He was quiet the rest of the way to the trailer.  
  
*****  
  
Gradually the pain started coming back, pulling at his consciousness, forcing itself into his head again. That wasn't right. He was supposed to be dead. Because he had told them. They'd killed him, after he talked. He wasn't...wasn't supposed to talk. Couldn't talk. Something...he wasn't supposed to tell...but he had. He had, and so he died. And he'd felt the safety, the peace, the strong arms of God protecting him...but now the pain kept getting worse, in spite of death, and he couldn't stifle the soft moan.  
  
Mistake. He felt his body being moved, lifted. No. No, not again. Not more of...that. He couldn't take any more. He tried to them push away. He was dead. Rest in peace...  
  
Heard the voice. That familiar voice that he hadn't heard for so long...the voice that shouldn't be here, shouldn't be heard by the dead...  
  
"BA?"  
  
"Yeah, Face, it's me."  
  
Oh, no. God, no...  
  
They'd killed BA, too...  
  
*****  
  
They settled him gently on the couch. Murdock had performed a minor miracle, in that there were fresh linens already on the fold-out. Hannibal started checking Face out more thoroughly, while BA took a quick look at the kitchen and started heating water on the hot plate, searching through the cupboards until he found several washcloths and some disinfectant. He wasn't happy with the meager supplies, but it would have to do.  
  
Murdock had slipped out of the trailer as soon as Face was in bed. He told himself it was too crowded in there, he'd just be in the way. They wouldn't notice. Hannibal was in full commander mode, the care of his wounded the only concern. And BA was making amends. Murdock wouldn't interfere with that, unnecessary as it was.  
  
Besides, he would be needed later, when Hannibal and BA crashed. When they had done whatever they could, and all that was left was to wait. Wait for Charlie, wait for a doctor, wait for Face to wake up. In the meantime, he had a job to do. Nothing stood out in the middle of the desert like a large red and white helicopter. And they would need their van back.  
  
He trotted out to the chopper, clambered in and started it up. The rotors started slowly turning, churning up dust and debris around him. As he lifted up, he caught a glimpse of BA at the back door of the trailer, just before the whole scene was blocked out by dust. Okay, he probably should have mentioned his journey to the guys, but he didn't want them to interrupt their job just to argue with him. He wasn't dumb enough to drop right in at Sinon's airfield, after all. Just close enough to retrieve the van before someone else found it. There was nothing to worry about. Nothing out there, anyway.  
  
He thought Hannibal was going to be all right. He'd caught a glimmer of the Jazz back there at Sinon. He wasn't back yet, but he was moving in the right direction, despite himself. And BA...well, he was still dealing with that guilt thing, and Murdock would have to have a little talk with him about that Andy guy. But now that they had Face again, those two could begin healing. It wouldn't be easy, because they still didn't know they needed to heal. They didn't recognize it, like he did. Which meant a lot would be riding on his shoulders alone. He had a big job ahead of him. The biggest job he'd ever had.  
  
He looked out at the expanse of empty desert below him. Thought about that dinky little trailer. Shook his head. He knew he had to keep his own head straight where Face was concerned. Make the Purple Wobblies disappear. Couldn't be angry, or confused, or hurt; he had to focus. Focus on one thing.  
  
Face was going to need him.  
  
*****  
  
BA came back from the door, shaking his head, angrily.  
  
"Fool's gone, Hannibal."  
  
"He'll be back. Hand me that disinfectant." Hannibal remained calm, but inside he was berating himself for his laxness. The first inkling he'd had that Murdock wasn't even in the trailer was when they'd heard the chopper start up. That was number one. Secondly, he hadn't thought about the target they'd left, sitting only yards away from the trailer. It was a stupid mistake, and he was lucky Murdock had been on the ball enough to think about it. Hannibal had been too concerned with Face.  
  
Damn. What had he told himself, over and over and over again? Don't get too close. Don't care so much. Keep your distance, remember to be commander, not father. And here he was, making the same mistakes. Worrying about one of his men, putting the rest in peril. Hadn't he learned anything?  
  
He finished with the cut above Face's right eye, and stood up. BA looked at him, startled, as Hannibal handed him the cloth and disinfectant.  
  
"You keep working on him, Sergeant. I'm going to check the perimeter." Then he was gone.  
  
BA looked at the door, confused. What was that all about? He turned back to Face, saw his eyelids fluttering. BA glanced involuntarily at the left one and caught his breath. It was fluttering, too - inside the socket. He had to quell the sudden queasiness in his stomach. He forced himself to look only at the right side, realized that Face was trying to see through the swelling.  
  
"S'okay, Face. This is gonna hurt, but I gotta clean out these cuts. Won't take long, I promise."  
  
"Hannibal..."  
  
"He's checkin outside. He'll be back soon."  
  
"No...won't..." Face closed his eyes, sighed.  
  
BA was going to argue, but decided there was no point. Face was out of it, didn't know what he was sayin. He rinsed the cloth in the hot water and started cleaning out the next cut. Face shuddered, then lay still.  
  
"Yeah, that's okay, Face. You stay under for a while. Better that way."  
  
BA continued with his job, in the silence of the trailer, not thinking about Hannibal or Murdock or Sinon. He would take care of Face, no matter what the others did.  
  
He wouldn't run out on him again.


	31. Chapter 31

BA finished his ministrations and leaned back, stretching his back and neck muscles. It had taken a long time, but then he'd been very careful, too. Careful to clean everything thoroughly, careful so it wouldn't hurt any more than necessary. He thought Face had come out of it, sometimes, and then gone back under. He wasn't sure, though. Hard to tell, when the one eye was so swollen, and the other...  
  
BA swallowed. Back in Nam, he'd once held a fellow grunt's entrails in his bare hands, trying to keep the man alive long enough for evac. That had shaken him badly, but when he'd had to clean up that eye today...he still felt sick. Maybe it wasn't the injury; maybe it was the man. He glanced over at the clean white gauze taped carefully over it, to protect from further abuse.  
  
He swallowed again, wanting a distraction. He looked at the clothes Face wore. Filthy with blood, dirt, grass stains of some kind. Like he'd been dragged through the brush. BA stood, stretched one more time, and started rummaging through an old bureau next to the couch, picking out clean clothes. He didn't see one silk shirt, not one tie. Not even a nice sweater. Just t-shirts, jeans, a couple sweatshirts. He took a t-shirt off the top and grabbed a pair of jeans.  
  
It wasn't until BA was pulling off the filthy jeans that he realized something was seriously wrong. Face suddenly sat half-way up, yelling in pain, grabbing for his leg. BA was horrified to find the pant leg caught by a tied cloth of some kind, which had pulled away from a gunshot wound in the left thigh. He couldn't believe he hadn't seen it before. The wound was through and through, and was now starting to seep blood again. Face tried desperately to fight him off while protecting his leg, and BA had a hell of time holding him on the couch.  
  
"Hannibal!"  
  
*****  
  
Murdock's ride cruised across the sky, Sinon's private airfield just visible on the horizon. They had parked the van a few blocks from the facility. Murdock wanted to land as close as possible to it, but at the same time, didn't want to be too close to the airfield. He glanced at his watch, staring at it unbelieving for a moment. Had it really been less than an hour since their escape from Sinon's headquarters? It seemed like they had been trying to lose the FBI for hours, and then the flight to the village, and...  
  
Man.  
  
He looked closely as he flew past the airfield, high enough so the chopper wouldn't be recognized, low enough to see any activity below. As far as he could tell, nothing had changed. He saw no sign of the FBI, but that didn't mean they weren't on their way. Or maybe Charlie had forgotten to tell them about the airfield. The more he thought about it, the more he knew Charlie wouldn't have told the FBI. If he had, he would've had to tell them about the team and their plans.  
  
Nope, Charlie would've kept his mouth shut.  
  
Which posed another problem for Murdock. Even if the FBI wasn't there, Les still had men at the airfield. Men that could come after Face and the others. And no way Murdock could let that happen.  
  
He flew for a few more minutes, slowly circling the airfield before moving on toward the van. He'd thought things out very carefully.  
  
He had a plan...  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal rushed in at BA's call, and found BA struggling to keep Face from scrambling away from him. Face was panicky, hitting ineffectively at BA while simultaneously trying to protect his leg.  
  
What the hell?  
  
He ran over, taking Face's wrists in his hands, surprised at the strength of the struggle. BA quickly stepped around him, dropping down on the couch behind Face, wrapping his arms around the man's shoulders. Hannibal relinquished the wrists and BA quickly grabbed them, pulling Face's arms up to his chest and holding him firmly.  
  
"Face! Face, it's all right. It's us, Face." Hannibal tried to get Face's attention, while holding onto the kicking legs.  
  
"He's been shot, Hannibal. Thigh."  
  
Hannibal shot a quick glance at the wound. He let go with one hand and gently took his lieutenant's face, trying to avoid the new injuries.  
  
"Face, it's Hannibal. Hannibal. C'mon, kid, stop it, now." The words were commanding, the voice soft but firm. "Face, look at me."  
  
Face slowly stopped his frantic attempts to get away, but the look he gave Hannibal was not one of recognition, but instead, defeat.  
  
"I just want to clean up that leg a bit, okay? Just until the doctor gets here."  
  
Face looked at him, clearly not believing him. "Doctor?"  
  
"Yeah, Face. I'm going to have Charlie bring a doctor for you."  
  
Face said nothing more, but he didn't make any further attempt to escape. Just the same, BA kept a firm hold of him, knowing the cleanup was going to hurt, regardless of how gentle Hannibal was.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock landed the chopper with a flourish on the outskirts of the airfield. He left it running, rotors slowly turning, waiting for the response to his sudden appearance. It didn't take long. He saw three vehicles suddenly race away from the main building, heading his direction. Quickly he shut off the chopper, pulled a few specially chosen wires loose, and dropped down to the ground. Waiting until the first car was close enough to see him, Murdock sprinted across the blacktop toward the chain link fence ringing the airfield. He took a huge leap, landing halfway up, and climbed quickly over the top. He dropped to the hard ground on the other side, watching as the cars slowed cautiously several yards from the chopper. As soon as he saw the first man step out, he took off. Again, he made damn sure they saw him.  
  
He figured he had maybe ten or fifteen minutes to get to the van and make his preparations. He only hoped BA had left the key to the locker in its usual place. It could get a little hairy if he hadn't.  
  
He had.  
  
"God protects fools and little children," he muttered, as he grabbed the key and hurried to the back of the van. Moments later, he had his little arsenal on Hannibal's seat, and was furiously trying to remember where the hell BA kept the spare ignition key. He fleetingly thought he should have made sure God was watching before he got too confident, but then his mind sparked and he pulled the ashtray out. Taped securely to the bottom of the tray was his prize, and just in time, as he spotted the first of his pursuers run around the corner. With a mental apology to BA, he swung the van in a sharp u-turn, racing past Sinon's men and heading back toward the airfield.  
  
He chuckled as he watched men scramble out of his way. In the rearview mirror, he saw them race back around the corner. He figured he would beat them back to the airfield by a few minutes. Long enough to get in position. Precision timing. That's what the key was. Precision timing. Give or take a minute here and there.  
  
He grinned as he rammed his way through the gates and past the startled security guard. The guy may or may not call the police. Didn't matter, though. Murdock intended them to show up, one way or another. But he wanted his 'fun' first.  
  
The hangar doors were wide open, just waiting for him. A couple maintenance guys stared at the van racing across the tarmac and into the building. As he slammed the brakes on the van, hopped out and ran for the doors, he could hear their voices shouting in the distance. He giggled as he slid the doors almost closed.  
  
Party time...  
  
*****  
  
BA had been right. Cleaning the wound had hurt. It had been downright painful, and Face now leaned heavily against BA's chest, breathing hard and sweating. Hannibal stood up stiffly, the look on his face showing clearly how badly he felt for adding to Face's misery. He reached down, intending to give Face a reassuring touch on the shoulder.  
  
Face jumped as if he'd been struck, and feebly tried to escape yet again, but BA hadn't let down his guard. Face strained for another moment before slumping down, the tension never leaving his body.  
  
"Face, I'm sorry. But it had to be done." Hannibal sat back down, trying to get Face to look at him. "Face?"  
  
One swollen eye turned toward him, dull. Again, there was absolutely no sign of recognition.  
  
"Face, do you know who I am?" BA could almost swear there was a note of pleading in the colonel's voice. "It's Hannibal, Face. Hannibal. Do you understand?"  
  
There was long, suffocating silence.  
  
"No...you're not...Hannibal went away. He's not coming back. He's...gone."  
  
Hannibal sat back abruptly. "What?"  
  
"Hannibal's gone. He...he knew. He knew what I was...what I would do."  
  
The colonel was stunned. Guilt flooded through him. He looked up at BA, but BA just shook his head, clueless. "Face, I was angry, I said some things I shouldn't have, but..."  
  
"No, he was right. He was right. I was...I was a coward. I...told. I told them everything..."  
  
"Face, it's all right. You couldn't help it. My God, look what they did to you. Anyone would have..."  
  
"No, no, he wouldn't have told them." Failure shouted in the quiet voice. "None of them would have. He was right to leave..."  
  
"Face, I didn't leave you. Not really. I'm here. We all are."  
  
For a moment, the resolve in Face's expression faltered. He turned his head, scanning the small room. "Murdock?"  
  
"Murdock's taken the chopper to hide it, but he'll be back."  
  
Hannibal could almost swear there was a flash of smile from Face. A bitter smile.  
  
"Murdock's flying...flyyyying awaaayyy...." A definite chuckle, followed by a grimace. "Flying far from me. He knows, too, doesn't he?"  
  
"He don't know nothin, Face. 'Cause you ain't no coward."  
  
Face tried to look up, frowning. That voice, back again. To taunt him with its lies.  
  
"BA?"  
  
"Yeah, man, I'm here and I ain't leavin. Nobody's leavin you."  
  
"Liar. You're not BA."  
  
Startled, BA almost loosened his grip, tightening immediately when Face tried to push free before sagging back down again.  
  
"Why do you think he's lying, Face?" Hannibal glanced at BA, silently signaling him not to react.  
  
"Because BA's dead."  
  
Hannibal and BA looked at each other, stunned.  
  
"Dead? What makes you say that, kid?"  
  
"He has to be. He's with me."


	32. Chapter 32

Murdock rammed a small metal rod through the clasps of the doors, knowing it wouldn't hold for long, but it didn't need to. He climbed to the top of the van, and quickly ran a thin cable from one of the hangar's sliding doors to the other. With a piece of duct tape, he attached the grenade to the second door, and threaded the cable around the pin. He hopped down and drove the van to the opposite end of the hangar.  
  
Among the half dozen small planes in the hangar, one sat by itself at the far end. Murdock glanced at it as he pulled the box of grenades from the van, then stopped, looked harder. He smiled, regretfully.  
  
"Sorry, sweetheart, but someone's gotta pay..."  
  
It took a few more minutes to get the plane ready, during which the shouts and pounding on the hangar doors commenced. Murdock worked feverishly, knowing his little door prize would only stop some of the men. He would still have to deal with the rest.  
  
He felt a momentary pang of conscience, but forced himself to remember Face, lying on the floor of the office. These guys may not have had anything to do with the actual beating, but they knew who they worked for, and he was quite sure they felt no guilt about any of their boss's tactics, or the roles they had undoubtedly played in other jobs.  
  
Someone's gotta pay.  
  
Murdock couldn't do anything to Les, or Andy. BA had taken care of them. BA had had his chance. Murdock wanted his. Would have his. Richter thought Murdock had worked through all the anger and hurt. Murdock thought he had, too. But he'd been wrong. So wrong. He'd stayed calm, back there in the office. Kept his anger in perspective, done the constructive things, kept things real. Richter would have been proud of how he had dealt with it.  
  
But as he'd flown over the airfield, thinking about the men down below who might still come after them, he'd kept seeing Face. His Face. The Face that smiled often, laughed with joy, scammed with relish. And then flashed to that heap on the floor of the office.  
  
Hadn't he gone through enough? Hadn't they all? What right did these guys have to destroy the last shreds of the team, of his friends? Why should Face, or any of them, have to worry about these guys coming at them yet again? And the more he thought, the more he knew that he hadn't really dealt with anything. He'd only learned how to hide it away. Because Richter said dwelling on the past did no one any good.  
  
Richter be damned.  
  
The metal rod dropped from its precarious perch and the great doors slid open with a screech. The wire pulled tight, popped the pin. Murdock watched as the men raced through the doors and stopped, looking at the parked van cautiously. Murdock counted silently as he started up the small plane. Almost exactly four seconds after the pin had been pulled, the grenade went off, collapsing the thin metal doors and sending shrapnel flying through the air.  
  
Murdock grinned wildly over the roar of the engine. The plane crept forward, throttle tied in place, ammo box lying on the right-hand pedal. He slipped recklessly out the door and dropped down by the belly of the plane. The automatic rifles were jammed into the landing gear struts, and it only took a moment for another piece of wire to be pulled tight around the trigger of the first one. The blast of firing nearly deafened Murdock, echoing in the metal building. Ducking under the belly of the now slowly rotating plane, he yanked the wire tight on the other rifle, and was forced to roll out from under the plane as it swung around.  
  
He ignored the yells and ricocheting bullets. He slid to a stop by the box of grenades on the floor, pulling the pin from one on the top. Dropping the live grenade back in the box, he quickly shoved with all his might, sending it skidding across the cement floor.  
  
He raced to the van and aimed for the pedestrian-sized door at the back. BA would have his head for this.  
  
He didn't care.  
  
He leaped into the van, flooring it, crashing through the wall surrounding the small door and tearing across the tarmac toward the desert.  
  
Seconds later, the hangar erupted.  
  
Murdock gave a triumph howl as he headed across the desert, angling around to the highway. He felt a glow now, a freedom. Now he was ready. Now he could start fresh. Now they all could.  
  
Someone had paid...  
  
*****  
  
Face was sleeping. Hannibal had managed to find the headache pills, and dissolved one in a glass of juice. If Face noticed the bitter taste as he drained the glass, he hadn't said anything. But then, he hadn't said anything at all after his shocking statements about BA. He'd just drifted off into whatever world he seemed to prefer to theirs.  
  
BA was standing in the small shade of the Joshua trees, staring at the pile of animal skulls. He looked up as Hannibal came to stand beside him, total confusion on his face.  
  
"What the hell is goin on with him, Hannibal? Livin out here like this, messin with stuff like that. Talkin like that. He's actin crazier than Murdock, man. Like there's no Face left at all."  
  
Hannibal sighed. "Maybe you're right, BA. I thought, hoped, that we might be able to get him back. But after what those bastards did to him...I think we've lost him, BA. This was the last straw."  
  
BA watched as Hannibal turned and wandered back toward the trailer. That wasn't what he'd wanted to hear. He'd wanted Hannibal to tell him that Face would come back, that once the physical wounds were healed up again, they'd be able to regroup and heal the rest of him. Bring him home. Make him want to stay.  
  
But if Hannibal was right, then what? They couldn't just leave him here. They couldn't just walk away. But what could they do? Dump him in the VA, with Murdock? That would never work. Nobody could help him if he had to hide who he really was, and if he didn't hide it, the military would have him behind bars in no time.  
  
But if the VA was out, then where? Where could they put him where he'd be safe, and yet get the help he needed? A private hospital? They'd just have the same problem there. The only place Face could be safe was with them. But how long would any of them be safe, if they were dealing with Face instead of watching for the MP's? They couldn't go on any jobs if they were taking care of him. So how would they support themselves?  
  
BA closed his eyes tightly. No matter how he tried to work it, he just couldn't see how they could take care of Face and themselves. He looked over at the animal skulls.  
  
He could swear they were laughing at him.  
  
*****  
  
Nick moved up towards Charlie's cabin, eyeing the men eyeing him. He definitely didn't like the way they tensed up. He stopped, uncertain, wanting to talk to Charlie but not daring to move any closer. He almost wilted with relief when the man himself stepped out on the porch.  
  
"Nick! C'mon in." Charlie turned to the man closest to him, who was starting to protest. "This is my friend, Nick. I trust him with my life. Leave him alone."  
  
Only when the men surrounding him backed off did Nick feel safe enough to step forward and follow Charlie inside.  
  
"What the hell is going on, Charlie? Who are those guys? Where are Smith and the others? Where's Ed?"  
  
Charlie held his hands up. "I'll explain later, Nick. Right now, I need you to get out to Ed's trailer and make sure he's out there with Smith. Make sure they're all okay."  
  
Nick stared at him. He'd never seen Charlie so rattled. "Charlie..."  
  
"Nick, please!" Charlie hung his head for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "Sinon was into something much worse than we could ever have imagined, Nick. These guys out here are FBI. They're my bodyguards, for the time being, anyway. They can't know about the team, Nick, or find Ed. But, somehow, Sinon got their hands on Ed and I don't know what they might have done. So you just curb your curiosity for now and do what I ask. Please."  
  
Nick waited for a moment, thinking fast. "Should I take the doc?"  
  
Charlie smiled, relief washing over him. Nick was onboard. "It probably would be a good idea, just in case. He'll be discreet, and Ed knows him. Thank you, Nick."  
  
Nick just nodded and headed out the door. He noted the suspicious looks he got from the FBI men. He'd have to be careful about approaching the doctor, and leaving the village with him. He straightened his shoulders, determined.  
  
Whatever the hell was going on, he wouldn't let Charlie down. Never had, never would.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock swung the van onto a small side road. He was some distance from the village, but had no intention of going there, anyway. He pulled out the map, and started doing his calculations. It was one thing to know where something was by air, another to translate that to the ground.  
  
Besides, he needed to concentrate on something else right now. It hadn't taken long for the euphoria to die. For him to really think about what he'd done. It had kind of a dream-like quality to it. As if he really hadn't done it at all. As if someone else had, and he'd just watched from the sidelines.  
  
He hadn't had that feeling for a long time. Not since Nam, actually. Since then, he really hadn't done anything that required that...distancing. Different personas, sure. Characters that allowed him to do the things the team expected him to do. He wondered, sometimes, if any of them realized how hard it was for him. Not that he didn't like hanging around with the guys. He loved that. But somehow, the guys thought he loved going on the missions. Needed to be part of that.  
  
He hated that. Why the hell did they think he ended up in the VA to begin with?  
  
But it was the only way he could be with them. The first few times they'd gotten him out, they hadn't gone on any jobs. Just had a day or so of sitting around. Watching him. Not having anything to do, knowing they didn't quite know what to do with him yet, he hadn't presented himself quite the way he'd wanted to. The visits started getting further and further apart. He had been afraid they'd stop altogether if he didn't do something. Anything. So when Hannibal mentioned a job they'd picked up, he'd practically begged to go along. To be part of it. Part of them.  
  
Anything not to be left behind.  
  
It had been so hard. Too much like over there. He felt himself falling back. So Murdock decided someone else should be there. He became someone else.  
  
And, damn it, it worked. Over and over again.  
  
But it had never been like this. This time, he wasn't even in his body. It was someone completely separate from Murdock in that hangar. Someone dangerous, and deadly. Someone who didn't give a rat's ass about human life. Someone who had a job to do and did it.  
  
He sat up, blinking. Lost inside himself again. Looked down at the map, crumpled tightly in his fists. He took a deep breath and carefully straightened it out again. Got his bearings. Started the van, and drove off to find Face.  
  
Face needed him.  
  
He needed Face.


	33. Chapter 33

BA watched silently as the jeep moved up the gully. It was too far away, yet, to make out the occupants, but BA was ready, regardless. He'd already alerted Hannibal; if they were the wrong people and by some small chance got by BA, he'd be more than ready for them.  
  
He'd been out here for some time now. Hannibal was keeping an eye on the rest of the perimeter; it was easy enough, since it sat on a huge plateau of sorts, nothing but flat land surrounding it. A person could see for miles. From the small spot of shade provided by a couple of large boulders, BA could keep an eye on the only way in, the only vulnerability.  
  
Even in the shade, it was hot. BA wiped the sweat trickling down his face. It was uncomfortable, but he preferred it to being on watch at the trailer. He didn't want to be there, not now, not yet, at all. Didn't want to be there when Face woke up, didn't want to listen to no more talk about bein dead.  
  
The jeep came to a halt down below. He recognized Nick, now, and the other guy looked familiar. BA had seen him around the village. So it was probably okay. He clicked the radio a couple of times. He wouldn't say anything until he knew for sure. He waited until the two men had climbed to the top of the gully, and stood, catching their breath.  
  
"Who you got with you, Nick?"  
  
Both men jumped, startled at the disembodied voice accosting them.  
  
"It's okay, Sergeant. This is our Doctor Feist, from the village. Charlie wanted me to bring him out with me, in case you guys were here and needed some help."  
  
"Charlie okay? Why ain't he here?"  
  
"He couldn't get away. He's got FBI agents all over. Said they were his bodyguards." Nick looked around, trying to see where Baracus was hidden away. There were only a couple of places, some rocky outcroppings, some scrub brush, but he couldn't see any sign of him. His voice echoed around the gully; he could be anywhere. "I don't know what's going on, Sergeant. I'm just doing what Charlie asked me to."  
  
"What about him?"  
  
"Ed knows me, Sergeant. I treated him for his headaches. I'm not here to cause anyone any problems." The doctor, too, was looking around. He found the disembodied voice slightly unnerving.  
  
BA looked at the two men for another few moments. They didn't sound like they were lying, and those had been prescription painkillers. He grudgingly admitted he trusted Nick; didn't like him much, but he trusted him.  
  
"Okay. Go on up. Hannibal will be waitin for you." BA watched as they walked past, then got Hannibal on the radio. The colonel's voice was cool, clipped. BA sighed; Hannibal had slipped back into his commander shell. Protectin hisself. Not that BA blamed him. That was all any of them were doin now, protectin themselves. They'd all be livin next door to Murdock if they didn't.  
  
Might not be so bad, if a fella stopped to think about it.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal was waiting in the doorway when the two men finally reached the trailer. Charlie had slipped Nick a detailed note with the directions to the place, but it was hard to follow with few real landmarks. By the time they saw it, they were both hot and dusty.  
  
"Gentlemen." Hannibal's voice contrasted with the politeness of the word. The tension was obvious. "The patient's inside." He paused, looking at Feist. "You've seen him before?"  
  
"Yes, sir, I have. Don't worry, I..."  
  
"He's worse now. Shot in the leg. The shit beat out of him. Do what you can." Hannibal stepped aside, holding open the door, a cool gaze following both the doctor and Nick as they walked past him.  
  
Nick knew that Ed lived a very simple life, but he hadn't been prepared for this. He tried to keep his shock hidden, not knowing how Smith might react. He was, quite frankly, loathe to engage Smith in any way.  
  
Dr. Feist seemed to have no such inhibitions.  
  
"I beg your pardon, Colonel, but it was quite a walk up here. I wonder if I might bother you for something to drink?"  
  
"Certainly, Doctor." Smith, still cold as ice, retrieved two glasses from the cupboard and filled them with juice from the refrigerator. He handed off the glasses, and stepped back, leaning almost casually against the cupboard.  
  
Feist took a couple long swallows before setting down the glass and moving to his patient, all business now that he was refreshed. Nick sipped his drink more slowly, watching Smith out of the corner of his eye. Nothing in the man's demeanor did anything to change Nick's opinion of him. It was clear to him that this "team" considered Ed an obligation, nothing more. Charlie had said that "somehow" Sinon had gotten to Ed. How had that happened, if Smith had known who he really was? Why wasn't Smith with him? Why hadn't the whole team been with him? If they had...  
  
And now, they were acting like it was some kind of imposition for them to be here at all. Smith, especially, leaning against the counter like Ed was just some stranger...  
  
Nick turned to the window, unable to look at Smith any more. He would talk to Charlie as soon as he got back to the village. Tell Charlie to send these guys away. Now. And he and Nick would take care of Ed, make sure he wasn't bothered by them ever again. Make sure he had the peace he'd been looking for. The peace Nick and Charlie had probably destroyed by bringing these men here.  
  
They owed him that, at least.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock saw the jeep sitting in the gully ahead of him, and drew his pistol as he slowed the van. He didn't see anyone around the jeep, but that didn't mean anything. Normally he would have assumed either BA or Hannibal would be on watch, but so many things were out of whack any more, who knew?  
  
He shut the door quietly, grimacing a little when he heard something else fall off the van. BA would have his head in a basket, that was for sure. Especially since Murdock wouldn't be able to tell him exactly why the van had ended up the way it had. Maybe, if he just told him he'd had a run-in with the goons at the airfield, that would suffice. Or maybe...  
  
"MURDOCK! What'd you do to ma van, Fool!"  
  
Oh, shit...  
  
"I'm sorry, BA, really, I am. But I ran into some trouble at the airfield, and..."  
  
"Look at it, man! Look at it!" BA had bounded down the slope and was circling the van in angry strides.  
  
"Hey, BA, really, it looks worse than it is. I mean, it's running just fine, just like always. It just doesn't look, well, like...it...used...to..." Murdock looked helplessly at BA, who had suddenly stopped and stared at him.  
  
For a long moment, the two stood perfectly still, Murdock wondering if BA was going to beat him into the ground, or just launch him like a rocket, and BA glaring at him. And then, just as suddenly, the glare was gone, and BA looked...sad?  
  
"You right, Murdock. It just looks bad. I can fix that." BA looked at the van, the front end flattened, paint scraped off en masse, windshield spider-webbed. "Looks don't mean a thing."  
  
Murdock felt a lump in his throat. For a moment, he wanted to rush over to BA and hug him. Tell him that everything was going to be fine, that everything would work out. But he couldn't do that. Not only would BA flatten him, but he wouldn't believe him, either. BA would fix the van. But he'd know that was the only thing he could fix.  
  
BA almost shook himself as he stepped abruptly away from the van.  
  
"Nick brought a doctor. They're up there now."  
  
"How is he?"  
  
BA looked down at the ground, the anger back, almost visibly shimmering around him.  
  
"They shot him, Murdock."  
  
"Wha...?"  
  
"I didn't see it right away. But they shot him in the leg. It was clean, through and through, but..."  
  
Murdock didn't wait for anything more. He sprinted up the slope and raced for the trailer.  
  
BA stood for another moment before turning back to his van, picking idly at the chips of paint. He should've told Murdock the other thing. About Face thinkin he was dead...  
  
*****  
  
Dr. Feist stood up and moved over to Hannibal. He smiled softly.  
  
"You fellas did a good job. The bullet wound looks very good; there shouldn't be any problems with it, as long as you keep it clean." The smile faltered a bit. "The injuries to his face...he had talked about reconstructive surgery. That he was supposed to have that done in a few months."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I'm no expert, Colonel, but frankly, I'm not sure that's not going to be possible now. You should have a plastic surgeon examine him as soon as possible; there may be something they can do, but..."  
  
"But what?"  
  
"The injuries were healing, but, well, the new insult to the already damaged tissue...and these aren't incisive wounds. More like tearing." The doctor sighed. "As I say, a plastic surgeon..."  
  
"Yeah, I heard you the first time, doc. I'll see what we can do."  
  
Dr. Feist nodded. "I see you gave him some of the headache medication. Keep doing that. It won't hurt him to sleep through the next couple of days. Probably do him good. I'll stop out later and see how he's doing. If everything looks good, we'll gradually take him off the painkillers. I gave him a shot of antibiotics; I'll leave some here for you. Now, Ed doesn't have a phone, so if anything happens..."  
  
"We'll get to you, don't worry."  
  
Dr. Feist looked at Hannibal, right in the eye.  
  
"How are you doing?"  
  
Again, that cool calm gaze.  
  
"I'm just fine, doc."  
  
The skeptical twist to the doctor's mouth said he didn't believe that for a minute.  
  
"I know this probably won't do any good, Colonel Smith, but if you, or any of your men, want to talk, I'm there. This can't be easy for any of you."  
  
The gaze wavered for a split second before taking command again. "I appreciate that, Doc, but we'll be fine. Just fine."  
  
Dr. Feist nodded and headed for the door.  
  
"I'll see you in a couple of days, then."  
  
Hannibal watched as Nick silently followed the doctor out. He heard Murdock's voice, fast and low, and the doctor's responding tones. Hannibal moved over to the bed, looked down at Face, sleeping deeply, peacefully.  
  
"Now what, kid? Now what?"


	34. Chapter 34

It was a quiet three days. Hannibal kept Face sedated, for the most part. They got some soup down him, when he was awake enough, before putting him under again. He was never awake enough to talk, which was just as well, as far as Hannibal was concerned. Murdock seemed fine, seemed to be holding up, but you could never tell. Hannibal and BA had sat down with him and told him everything that had happened while he was gone. He'd been upset with the dead thing, but no more than they had been.  
  
It bothered Hannibal that Murdock was less than forthcoming about what happened to the van; it wasn't until the Nick came back the next day that they heard about the explosion at the airfield. About all the dead men. BA had shifted uneasily, looking at Hannibal with a worried frown. Hannibal, in turn, had looked at Murdock, but the pilot just returned the look, not a flicker in his eyes. And kept his mouth shut.  
  
It was something he and Hannibal would have to discuss in the very near future.  
  
Dr. Feist came out the second day, pleased with the progress, and told Hannibal he could start cutting back on the painkillers, just give Ed enough to keep him comfortable. He also left the name of a plastic surgeon up north, an old friend of his, who would be 'discreet'. Hannibal thawed considerably toward the man.  
  
With Face sedated, Charlie still 'indisposed', and Sinon effectively out of business, the team had nothing but time on their hands. BA started working on the van, with Murdock attempting to help. It kept the two of them occupied, and out of Hannibal's hair. It also left Hannibal with little to do, other than watch over his lieutenant's sleep.  
  
He wandered about the small trailer until he was convinced he knew every square inch. He checked out the area surrounding it, although he always stayed within hearing range. He didn't like to go out too much, anyway. It was only a few yards and he would come up against that damn pile of skulls. Any other direction, and there was nothing but scrub brush and desert. For a man of action, it was frustrating as hell.  
  
Finally, on the third day, he decided he'd had enough. When Nick came to check on them, he asked to borrow his jeep. Leaving Nick in charge of Face, he headed for the city. Nearly three hours later, he arrived back at the trailer, a satisfied look on his face, fresh supplies in the back seat. He thanked Nick for the use of his vehicle with something nearing friendliness, mystifying everyone.  
  
It wasn't until after the evening meal that Hannibal could be persuaded to tell the others what he had been up to that afternoon. Grinning, he pulled a cigar as the three of them sat just outside the trailer door.  
  
"Gentlemen, we are taking a trip." He lit the cigar, took a puff, and smiled happily.  
  
"A trip? All of us?" Murdock and BA exchanged cautious looks.  
  
"Yep. I made an appointment with Dr. Bursey, the plastic surgeon Feist told us about. Four days from today. I also called Sandy. She's going to sneak out Face's records and have them faxed up to Bursey. He'll know all about the case when Face gets there."  
  
"Uh, Hannibal, you think he's gonna be up to a trip like that?"  
  
"We can fix up the van so he can be comfortable, and take a couple of days to drive up there. He'll be fine."  
  
"What if he don't wanna go, Hannibal? He don't seem to like goin anywhere, even down to the village."  
  
Hannibal frowned. He hadn't expected any objections. "Look, guys, Feist said he needs to see a surgeon, and the sooner, the better. There may be things that need to be done before those cuts heal up completely. We can't wait around until he decides he wants to go. He may hate it, but I'd rather deal with his anger now, instead of weeks or months down the road when it's too late to do anything."  
  
BA and Murdock had to admit, Hannibal had a point. They couldn't take a chance on screwing up Face's future any more than it already was. The three men settled down to plan the trip, and all the problems it would certainly entail.  
  
*****  
  
Face blearily looked up at the ceiling. Strange. He'd never considered a coffin to have a ceiling before. But then, this didn't seem like a normal coffin. It was way too big. Maybe that was just his perspective now. Maybe, once you died, everything seemed bigger.  
  
He thought about that for a moment, and then cautiously looked down.  
  
Nope.  
  
His hands looked normal.  
  
"Morning, Face."  
  
He jumped like he'd been shot. Murdock? What the hell was Murdock doing in Face's coffin? He turned his head and looked up at Murdock, hovering above him. It hurt when he moved. He closed his eye and turned his head away. He must be hallucinating. Murdock couldn't be here.  
  
"C'mon, Face. You need to wake up now."  
  
No, I don't. I'm dead. Dead people don't wake up.  
  
"Face, wake up, buddy."  
  
Face opened his eye again. Murdock was still there. Why was Murdock here, but BA wasn't? BA was the one that should be there, if anyone.  
  
"Face..."  
  
Why couldn't Murdock leave him alone? He was dead, after all. Rest in peace and all that. Although, he didn't feel dead. Then again, how did dead people feel? Did dead people feel?  
  
"Face?"  
  
He was getting irritated. How could he figure this all out with Murdock bugging him all the time?  
  
"Go 'way."  
  
He heard Murdock chuckle. It irritated him even more.  
  
"Can't do that, Face. Today's a big day. Going to get you up out of bed today. Maybe go outside, get some fresh air..."  
  
What? You can't take a corpse outside.  
  
"Can't..."  
  
"Why not? You've been sleeping too long, buddy."  
  
"I'm not sleeping. I'm dead."  
  
Again, he heard Murdock chuckle. Thanks, Murdock. Good to know you care.  
  
"You're not dead any more, Face."  
  
Face looked at Murdock, startled. Murdock was smiling at him, that soft, quiet smile he got when he knew he'd accomplished something special.  
  
"Not dead?"  
  
"Nope. You've been resurrected, Face. Somebody must have some pretty big plans for you."  
  
Face thought about that, glancing about him. Was that why the coffin seemed so big? Because it wasn't a coffin, after all? But why would God resurrect him, of all people? That didn't make sense. And what about...  
  
"BA?"  
  
"That was just a dream, kiddo. BA's fine and dandy. Just as crabby as ever."  
  
"Really?" If BA was alive, maybe Murdock was right about him, too. Or maybe Murdock was just imagining things.  
  
"Sure." Murdock turned away, and suddenly BA was standing beside him.  
  
"Tol ya I wasn't dead, Face. None of us are. Okay?"  
  
When BA used that tone of voice, you didn't argue. Besides, Face didn't think that tone was allowed after you were dead.  
  
"Okay..."  
  
"I'm going to get you some breakfast, Face. Something light this first time, okay?"  
  
Face just nodded, looking around the trailer again, still a bit confused.  
  
Resurrected? Strange. He couldn't figure out why. But then, didn't Father Magill always say, God works in mysterious ways? This was way past mysterious. But nice. Really nice.  
  
He hadn't liked being dead.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal was stirring the oatmeal. He looked at Murdock, eyes almost twinkling.  
  
"Good job, Captain."  
  
"Well, his still being doped up helped, Colonel."  
  
"Doesn't matter. I never would have thought that up."  
  
"Yeah, but you don't do crazy like I do."  
  
*****  
  
BA was more than happy Face was back among the living. He knew Face was thinking that way just because of the beating he'd taken, but BA found it creepy anyway. Especially since he'd been included among the casualties. He wasn't prone to nightmares, but he'd had one last night. Following Face's ghost around a damn cemetery. BA had been crying, of all things. Then he'd turned into a ghost, too. He woke up, sweating like a butcher, and had sat by Face's bed the rest of the night.  
  
Dumb.  
  
Now, as he helped Face to get up from the bed and hobble to the door, he couldn't help but notice the looks Face kept giving him. First it would be like Face figured BA was going to disappear any second, then it would be like he thought BA was God or something. BA sighed to himself. He knew Face's thinking was still two hub caps short of a Buick, but those looks were almost as creepy as being dead.  
  
It was a struggle getting Face outside and settled in the old chaise lounge, considering the bad leg and the fact his body was one big bruise. BA hadn't wanted to move him at first, but Hannibal had pointed out that he could probably use the fresh air. Considering the small trailer had housed the three of them for the last few days, BA had conceded the point. There was a nice breeze, the heat wasn't oppressive yet, and Face did seem a little more comfortable out here. Hannibal and Murdock were cleaning up inside, leaving BA alone with him for the first time in months. He had so much he wanted to say, but no idea how to start.  
  
"Resurrected."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Murdock said I was resurrected."  
  
"Uh, yeah." BA knew it had solved a lot of problems, but somehow, he still felt that whole thing was somehow...sacrilegious. It made him uncomfortable.  
  
Face looked at him, and BA could almost see the gears cranking.  
  
"You, too?"  
  
"No. Never was dead, Face. Tol you that."  
  
"Yeah." Face looked off into the distance.  
  
BA sat, trying to think of how to bring up the accident, make his apologies. Wanted to talk to him about the fake suicide, why he'd done it. He wanted to, badly, but he was afraid it would just make Face hate him even more. BA looked over at him; it looked like he'd fallen asleep again. If there was a good time to talk, it might just be now, while he was still under the influence of the painkillers.  
  
"Face?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
BA swallowed. "Face, I'm sorry, man. About the...accident."  
  
Face sighed. "Not your fault, BA."  
  
"That's not what you really think, though, is it?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
BA pushed ahead, afraid to, but knowing he couldn't stop now. He had to get this out in the open, once and for all.  
  
"That's why you made us think you killed yourself, ain't it? 'Cause you blamed us. Blamed me. I...I know you hate me for it, Face, but I..."  
  
"I don't hate you, BA. That's not why I did it."  
  
BA was perplexed. If Face didn't hate him, and Face wouldn't lie to him about something like that, then why...  
  
"I don't unnerstand, Face. Why would you do somethin like that?"  
  
Face actually smiled, staring out at the desert, and his voice was soft, sounding far away. "It's beautiful here, isn't it, BA?"  
  
BA frowned. He knew what the change of subject meant with Face. He sighed. "If you like sand and scrub brush, I guess."  
  
Face continued to smile, but there was a weariness in his voice. "That's why, BA. Because that's all it is, sand and scrub brush." He closed his eye, and despite BA's questions, said nothing more.


	35. Chapter 35

"You want to try your luck at telling him about Bursey?"  
  
Hannibal looked up at Murdock from where he was wiping down the table. When they'd arrived at the trailer - Hannibal refused to call it Face's 'home' - it had been, if not immaculate, then extremely neat. He wanted to leave it that way. Murdock was sweeping the linoleum, ala Fred Astaire. He stopped just as he was about to swing the broom down in a graceful arc, its bristles inches from the ceiling.  
  
"Me, Colonel?"  
  
"Yeah, Murdock. Why not? You talked him into being Lazarus, right? So what's a little trip?"  
  
The broom came slowly down to earth, and Murdock leaned on the handle, a serious frown on his face.  
  
"This trip is a little different, Hannibal. Face didn't really want to be dead, y'know. So it was pretty easy to give him an argument he'd accept. But leaving here? No way. You're looking at a little BA type reasoning, there."  
  
"You know we can't do that, Murdock. Not for three days. He's got to be alert and ready to talk with the doc."  
  
"Yeah...Uh, just out of curiosity, why don't you want to tell him, Colonel?"  
  
"I don't think Face would accept it from me, at all. He still thinks I deserted him. Which I did not do." The look on Hannibal's face dared anyone to argue, and Murdock was not about to.  
  
"Okay, I'll give it a try, but I can't guarantee anything." He made a couple token swipes with the broom. "You're going to have to talk to him sometime, Colonel. We all are. We got to get things straight between us."  
  
Hannibal sighed. He knew very well that talk was long overdue. It should've happened months ago, before Face took off. He didn't know what he would have said that would have made any difference, and nothing had really changed since. Face had hidden from his troubles back then, and he was still hiding.  
  
With a guilty heart, Hannibal realized that maybe Face wasn't the only one.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock stepped out of the trailer, looking for a long moment at BA and Face. Something about BA seemed more relaxed, somehow. Murdock wondered if he and Face had had a chance to talk things out.  
  
"Hey, Big Guy. How's everything?"  
  
BA looked up, a surprisingly contemplative look on his face. "Good, Murdock. Things are pretty good."  
  
Murdock smiled, relieved. At least someone was making progress. "Hannibal wanted to make sure the van was ready for...you know."  
  
"Yeah, just about. Should be done this afternoon. 'Cept for the dents and windshield..." Murdock didn't know if he was relieved or not to see the customary glare as BA stepped past him. He knew at some point BA was going to make him pay for that.  
  
Murdock took BA's place next to Face. He sat quietly, watching his friend dozing. If one looked past the scars, bruises, and cuts, he looked almost at peace. Almost.  
  
Well, Murdock was about to put an end to even that. He took a breath, put on a smile, and gently shook Face's shoulder.  
  
"Hey, Face. Asleep again?"  
  
Face stirred, looked sleepily around. Frowned.  
  
"Where's Petey?"  
  
"Petey?" Murdock looked puzzled for a moment. He hadn't met anyone named Petey. Then it dawned on him. "You mean the dog?"  
  
"Where's Petey?" Face was getting worried now. Petey should've been sleeping with him on the lounge, or at least lying next to it. He struggled to sit up, felt dizziness sweep over him. "Petey!"  
  
"Hang on, Face! Petey's with Charlie."  
  
Face lay back down, unhappily. Why the hell was Petey with Charlie? Petey belonged to him, not to Charlie.  
  
"I want Petey." He glared at Murdock. At least, he hoped it was a glare. He seemed to be having a problem making his face work.  
  
"He's okay, Face. Promise. Look, I got something to talk to you about."  
  
"I want my dog."  
  
"I know, but we got to talk first. Remember I said someone had special plans for you..."  
  
"I want Petey. Now."  
  
"I understand, Face, but first..."  
  
"Now."  
  
Murdock sighed. This was not going to work. "Just a minute, okay, Face?" He stood and hurried into the trailer.  
  
Moments later, Hannibal was outside, sitting down by the lounge. He was determined to be reasonable, calm, and not lose his temper, even in the face of his lieutenant's obstinacy.  
  
"Face, Petey's with Charlie now."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"He's been taking care of him while you were healing up."  
  
"When's he coming home?"  
  
"Well, we're going away for a while."  
  
"So?"  
  
"So, we can't really take a dog with us."  
  
"I know that..."  
  
Hannibal looked at Face. Finally, they were getting somewhere.  
  
"...but why is Petey still at Charlie's?"  
  
Hannibal hung his head, exasperated.  
  
"Face, I just explained. We can't take the dog with us."  
  
"Well, why would you? He's my dog!"  
  
"I know he's your dog, Face. But we can't take care of him when we're on the road.'  
  
"So what? I'll take care of him, just like I always have." Hannibal wasn't the only one getting exasperated.  
  
"How are you going to take care of him, Face? You can't even walk on that leg yet."  
  
"I can reach the door just fine. Petey always comes when I call him."  
  
Realization hit Hannibal like a brick wall. "Face, you aren't going to be here. You're going with us."  
  
"What? Why? No! No, I'm not going anywhere! I'm staying here!"  
  
"Look, Face, we found a doctor up north who might be able to help you out. A plastic surgeon. Dr. Feist recommended..."  
  
"No."  
  
"Face..."  
  
"No. What's the point?"  
  
"You could at least talk to the guy, Face."  
  
"No. I'm happy here. I'm staying."  
  
"Lieutenant..."  
  
"Stop it, Hannibal! I'm not your lieutenant any more. You made that clear enough!"  
  
"I never said anything like that, Face. I gave you a choice."  
  
"Some choice."  
  
"Okay, Face, let's put it this way. The choice isn't yours any more. You're going with us tomorrow and that's final."  
  
"Bullshit."  
  
"If I have to carry you to the van and tie you in, you're going."  
  
"Fuck you." Face deliberately turned away.  
  
Hannibal sat back, trying very hard to get his anger in check. What was it about Face that made him so damn angry all the time? Then he noticed the slight tremors running through Face's body. Ashamed, he made one last attempt.  
  
"Face, if I bring your dog along, will you go then? And if I promise you can come back here right after, if that's what you really want to do?"  
  
Hannibal held his breath, waiting, hoping. It seemed like forever.  
  
"Okay." Face's voice was so soft Hannibal almost didn't hear him. "But..."  
  
"What, Face?" Hannibal matched Face's voice, keeping it soft, calm.  
  
"I don't know...if I can...if..."  
  
"We'll be right there with you, Face. Nothing's going to happen to you. I swear it."  
  
Face just nodded, never looking back at Hannibal.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal spoke with Nick when he stopped in that afternoon. Early the next morning, before the sun came up over the distant mountains, Nick arrived with the small white dog, who immediately raced into Face's arms, covering him with slobbery kisses. It was the first time in months any of the team had seen a genuine smile from Face.  
  
Within the hour, the team was rolling away from the trailer. Face was reclining on an old gurney Dr. Feist had provided, Petey clutched tightly to his side, Murdock seated beside him. Hannibal kept glancing back, noting the pale skin, and the tension practically vibrating off Face. Murdock would look back at him, smiling encouragingly, but Hannibal could see the worry in his eyes.  
  
It was going to be a long trip...


	36. Chapter 36

"Where are you?"  
  
He jerked, just a bit. Petey looked up at him, curious. The dog was laying next to his right leg, head resting just above Face's knee. Face idly stroked the soft fur, and Petey relaxed again. A glance to his side told Face Murdock hadn't heard. He tilted his head, just a little. He could always hear them better if he did that. He had no idea why.  
  
"We looked for you. Where are you?"  
  
He looked toward the front of the van, the only view he had of the outside world through the windshield. From his position, all he could see were mountains in the distance, and sky. He had no idea where he was.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"What's that, Face?"  
  
Damn. He didn't think Murdock could hear him. He shook his head. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Murdock looking at him, puzzled, but he ignored him. After a minute, Murdock went back to his comic book.  
  
"You're not here. Why?" Puzzled.  
  
Face shook his head again. Could they see, as well as hear? He'd never thought about that before.  
  
"Come home."  
  
"I can't."  
  
This time Murdock wasn't the only one who heard. Hannibal was looking at him in the mirror. Murdock had put the comic book down once again, but didn't say anything. He just looked at Face.  
  
"Yes, you can. Just...tell them."  
  
Face didn't dare even shake his head now. Not while they were watching.  
  
"We found something for you."  
  
Face tried to ignore them, but they knew they'd piqued his curiosity now.  
  
"Something nice..." Almost purring now.  
  
Hannibal wasn't looking any more, but Murdock still hadn't gone back to his comic. Face squirmed uncomfortably.  
  
"You okay, Face?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Something verrrry nice..." Definitely purring.  
  
Murdock had picked up the comic, but Face knew he wasn't reading it.  
  
"We found a falcon..."  
  
"What!?"  
  
"Face, what the hell is going on?"  
  
Damn! Hannibal had turned around this time, glaring at him. Murdock was shaking his head at Hannibal. Shit. Even BA was looking at him now, in the mirror.  
  
"It's hidden away, waiting for you..." Giggling with their secrets...  
  
"Shut up." He tried to say it as quietly as possible, but...  
  
"What did you say to me, Lieutenant?"  
  
Oh, he remembered that tone of voice. It usually meant latrine duty.  
  
"You don't have to listen to him any more. Come home. Where you belong." Petulant. Impatient.  
  
God, how he wished he could. He wanted to be there so badly, it made his head ache.  
  
"Come home. Come home to us."  
  
He closed his eye. If he didn't look at Hannibal, maybe he'd just leave him alone.  
  
"We don't yell at you, do we? We're your friends. We love you." Pleading.  
  
I know.  
  
"Come home."  
  
Face pushed the voices from his head. He couldn't go home.  
  
Hannibal wouldn't let him.  
  
*****  
  
"They've gone? Are you sure?"  
  
"Nick took off before dawn with the dog, came back without it. And yesterday he and the doc took off for parts unknown with an old gurney. They didn't bring anyone back on it. Doesn't leave much to the imagination."  
  
"Okay. Do you know where?"  
  
"No, but I can find out."  
  
"Do that. Our friends overseas are not very happy with us, as you might have guessed. They have a thing about revenge. If we can give them new game, we may be able to salvage things after all. How soon can you get back to me?"  
  
"A couple of hours at the most. Feist won't be that hard to get around."  
  
"He won't cause problems?"  
  
"Does it matter?"  
  
"Oh, yes, it matters quite a bit. There's still a little matter of uranium..."  
  
"You still want to go through with that? How?"  
  
A small chuckle came over the phone line. "When one door closes, another one opens. We have our methods - and the finances to make them work. Call me when you have the information."  
  
The line went dead. He glanced at his watch. Dr. Feist would be getting back to his office shortly, going over his paperwork before his first appointments showed up. The man was practically addicted to routine.  
  
Cal smiled as he walked out the door.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock thought at first that Face was talking in his sleep. He didn't usually do that, but then that didn't mean anything now. Murdock looked over at his friend, surprised to see he was wide awake.  
  
"What's that, Face?"  
  
Face just shook his head, looked away. Murdock watched him for a second before going back to his comic. For a few minutes there was nothing but silence in the van, then Face muttered something else. Murdock looked over, getting a bit concerned. He glanced up front, noticed Hannibal watching from the front seat. Looking back at Face, Murdock thought he looked as though he was listening to someone, but no one was talking. He saw Face sneak a look at him - yes, sneak was the operative word - and shifted on the gurney.  
  
"You okay, Face?" He'd been sitting in the same position for over an hour now. Maybe he was just uncomfortable.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Murdock picked up the comic, but kept watching Face over the top. He had his head tilted funny again.  
  
"What!?"  
  
Damn! Murdock nearly dropped the comic. Face looked like he'd just been handed the keys to a brand new Porsche - and then Hannibal barked at him and the look was instantly replaced by...guilt?  
  
What was going on with him?  
  
And then he did it. Face told Hannibal to shut up.  
  
For a mad moment, Murdock thought Hannibal was going to come out of his seat and into the back right then and there. He shook his head, nearly knocking himself silly in his urgency. Drop it, Hannibal, drop it, please!  
  
Hannibal looked at him, and Murdock could see the willpower it took for him not to say anything more and turn around, shoulders stiff as he looked out the windshield. Face had just closed his eye and ignored them all.  
  
Murdock couldn't understand what was going on. Face, talking to himself, baiting Hannibal...what was that all about? Murdock knew Face hadn't wanted to come on this trip, but this...  
  
Murdock sighed, looking out the front, but not really seeing.  
  
It was going to be one hell of a long trip.  
  
*****  
  
Charlie sat in his overstuffed chair, glass of scotch beside him. The sun was just pushing through the windows now, and glinted off the glass. He sighed, and reached for it.  
  
Way too early for this. At least, it would be if he were just starting. But he'd been sipping away at the bottle since last night. Waiting for it to take him away into the place where he no longer felt anything, no longer cared about anything.  
  
Or anyone.  
  
It hadn't worked. So, he'd spent the night, thinking. Playing with Petey, watching him sleep. Waiting for Nick to come back and take the dog away. Take the dog back to Ed. Knowing that that signaled Ed's departure.  
  
Not knowing if Ed would ever come back.  
  
Not being able to say goodbye, because the FBI still had people watching over him.  
  
Not wanting to say goodbye, really. Wanting to go back in time, to that day he'd gotten Ed drunk, that day he'd made the decision to bring Colonel Smith back into Ed's world.  
  
Still not sure if he would have made the same decision or not. Wishing he had forgotten all about it, let Ed stay where he was, the way he was.  
  
Happy.  
  
Or as happy as someone like Ed could be. Maybe he would have been okay. Maybe he would have moved further and further into that fantasy world he seemed to enjoy so much. Or can one really enjoy a world they fashion only to escape from reality?  
  
He'd known about Smith's plans before Nick had told him; Sandy had called him the day Smith got in touch with her. She was going along with it, which didn't surprise him. Sandy was, after all, a nurse whose only concern was with the patient. Ed needed to see this new surgeon, so she would do all she could to help make that happen. But she'd also worried about Ed. And Charlie.  
  
Besides Nick, Sandy was the only one who knew Charlie's background. Knew what Ed's friendship had meant to him. Knew why Charlie had started this little community to begin with.  
  
Knew about Cody.  
  
Cody.  
  
Charlie's son, who had died, ironically, because of information Charlie had provided. "Ambush" is what the military called it. Murder was what Charlie called it. Troops sent where they shouldn't have been, because the CIA didn't tell the military everything the CIA knew. Didn't tell them what Charlie had found out.  
  
So Charlie had quit the CIA. Not an easy thing to do. But by then, Charlie didn't really care. He quit the CIA, quit living in the city he'd been born and raised in...quit living. Until he'd met Nick, one of how many disgruntled and disillusioned vets who'd somehow found their way to his door after Cody's death. And the two of them had found this place, out in the middle of nowhere. Nick hadn't come to live there right away, but Charlie had. And so many others, from all walks of life and pain, had come to join him, and given him some measure of contentment, as he gave them a place of peace.  
  
But there had always been something missing. Until Sandy had called him about Ed. Until he'd met Ed, and talked with him. Ed hadn't talked much, but what he did say was wise and naive, old and young, jaded and innocent.  
  
So much like Cody. So different.  
  
Charlie raised the glass to his lips, and stopped, looking around the empty cabin, thinking about the empty trailer.  
  
"Salud, my friend. Go maire sibh bhur saol nua."  
  
He drained the glass, poured another.  
  
"Yes, my friend, yes. May you enjoy your new life."


	37. Chapter 37

After Face told Hannibal to shut up, the van was deadly quiet for a long, long time. Face slept, or pretended to. Hannibal stared in front of him, not once looking back at the others. BA rarely spoke when he was driving anyway, but Murdock noticed he kept looking in the rearview mirror.  
  
Murdock had his own thoughts. The things Face had said made no sense, were totally without context. If Murdock had had time to think about it before, he would have understood. Now, he had to think. Make some decisions.  
  
Should he tell Hannibal and BA what he suspected? Normally, there would have been no hesitation. They all needed to know what was going on with each other, to keep themselves safe. What threatened one, threatened them all. But this was different.  
  
Murdock had thought Hannibal was coming around, but his reaction earlier had belied that thought. Of course, Hannibal was already on edge. And, for some reason, having the dog along only added to his discomfort. Well, actually, it was pretty obvious what the reason was.  
  
The dog hated Hannibal.  
  
Murdock suspected Petey was only picking up on the tension in the Colonel, but still, it didn't make things any easier for Hannibal when every time he came near Face, the dog was growling at him. Funny about that. Petey seemed to pretty much accept BA, had very little interest in him and was certainly not intimidated by him. As to Murdock himself, Petey seemed to like him. Let Murdock pet him without protest, would go out on the leash when they'd make a pit stop without problem. But his seemingly permanent position was next to Face.  
  
Murdock brought his thoughts back to Face. It was clear to Murdock that Face had been talking to someone. But who? And what were they saying to him? He thought about what Face had said, his actions. Shook his head. It just didn't make any sense to him.  
  
One thing Murdock did know. At the next stop, he would have to find a pay phone.  
  
He had to talk to Charlie.  
  
*****  
  
"Well, Cal, I really appreciate this. You, uh, do know what you're doing?" Charlie chuckled lightly.  
  
"Yeah, Charlie. There's really nothing to it. Just a little loose wiring." Cal straightened up, lifted the receiver to Charlie's phone, and grinned. "See? Nothing to it. Dial tone's back, good as new." He handed the receiver to Charlie, as if to prove his point. Charlie obligingly listened to the newly restored dial tone.  
  
"Thanks a bunch, Cal. I'm hoping to receive a phone call soon. I'd hate to miss it."  
  
"Never fear, Charlie, you won't miss a thing." Cal smiled. 'And neither will I...'  
  
*****  
  
The leisurely drive Hannibal had envisioned had turned into something more akin to an endurance race, at least to BA's way of thinking. He, like the rest, apparently, had figured Face had accepted things, as long as he could take that dog with him. But after the little episode earlier in the morning, BA didn't think he'd accepted anything. He didn't know what all started it, but it sure ended sudden when Face told Hannibal to shut up. Man, he knew Face wasn't thinking straight, but...man.  
  
They'd had to stop three times now, to let the dog take a run. Murdock took care of that, but after the first time, learned that he had to stay within Face's sight. He'd made the mistake of going too far a field, and Face had nearly had a fit. Which hadn't helped Hannibal's disposition any. BA knew Hannibal hadn't intended to take the dog, and every time they had to stop, he'd gotten more and more grumpy. Add to that Face's on and off mumblings over the last hour, and BA knew Hannibal was nearly at the end of his rope, patience-wise. Which wasn't like Hannibal.  
  
BA had the definite feeling that Hannibal was no more himself than Face was.  
  
BA sighed. It was just past noon, and although they'd stopped at a fast food place, they hadn't gotten out of the van. Face couldn't handle that, physically or otherwise. Just waiting in the driveup lane, with cars driving by and people walking close to the van to get inside, he'd been driven nearly to distraction. Hannibal decided they would find a nice, quiet park, somewhere they could all get out and stretch and relax. BA was hoping they might be able to mend some bridges. At least get a start.  
  
It took a while to find anywhere suitable. They passed by two city parks, because there were too many people. Which meant, there were people, period. BA had finally gotten back on the highway, deciding he would just take the first turnoff that looked somewhat deserted. In the meantime, everyone was getting hungry and grumpy, and Hannibal, getting more and more stubborn, insisted they wouldn't eat until they could do it like "human beings" and not cargo.  
  
Nearly forty minutes later, BA spotted a wayside rest that actually was empty. Not a vehicle in sight, and among the picnic tables scattered about was one that sat a good distance away from the others, under a small stand of trees. It couldn't be more perfect. It even had bathrooms and soda machines.  
  
Perfect.  
  
Smiling to himself, he pulled in and parked.  
  
*****  
  
Dr. Feist walked slowly toward Charlie's cabin. He was feeling a little guilty about giving the Colonel the name of his friend in Redding. Not that he thought his friend would do a poor job; quite the contrary. He had the utmost confidence in the man's skills. No, what he was feeling guilty about was the fact that Ed had left without being able to see Charlie first. That must have been hard on both of them. It was no secret that the two had become fast friends.  
  
At least Charlie would have friends around who would try to fill the gap. Word was apparently already spreading that Ed was gone. Cal had been at his office almost first thing that morning, inquiring about Ed and his friends. Feist had been a bit surprised; he hadn't thought Cal was that interested. But then again, Cal had always been curious about any happenings in the village. And he was one of the people in the village who spent a good deal of time around Charlie. So perhaps there was no reason Feist should be surprised at Cal's curiosity after all.  
  
In the meantime, he intended to spend some time with Charlie, making amends in his own mind, if nothing else. He could only hope the separation would be temporary. Not only for Charlie's sake.  
  
Dr. Feist, after meeting the members of this A-Team, felt Ed really did need to come back home.  
  
*****  
  
Face looked out of the van's side door with more than a little trepidation. As nervous as he was riding in the van, moving further and further from his trailer, the idea of leaving it now left him feeling defenseless and unprotected. BA's soft voice, Murdock's reasoning, even Hannibal's set look, did nothing to persuade him. In the end, it was nature calling.  
  
The gurney had been placed where Face's seat had originally been, BA's forethought making it easier for Face to get in and out of the van. With help from BA and Hannibal, Face slid out of the van and stood, balanced between the two men, trying to steady himself. It took several minutes to convince Face that Petey would be okay alone with Murdock. After the other outings the two had had, Face was a little more willing to accept it. So, while Murdock headed for the picnic table with the food in one hand and Petey's leash in the other, the three men headed for the wayside rest's facilities. Face almost didn't touch the ground, as his supporters took most of his weight on their shoulders. It had one clear advantage, to Face's mind. He was able to look around instead of watching where he was going, and thus keep an eye out for any intruders.  
  
He didn't like the men's room. It was small and clean, but it smelled of disinfectant, and had no windows. He took care of business and washed his hands quickly, wanting to be out of there as fast as possible. He wanted the sky over his head and his dog by his side, nothing else.  
  
They were almost to the door, BA and Hannibal again supporting him. Before Hannibal could reach for it, the door burst open and a small boy came racing in. He pulled up short, staring quickly from one man to the next. His eyes got huge as they swept back to Face, who was trying desperately to look away.  
  
"DADDY!!!!"  
  
*****  
  
Murdock was busy tying the dog to the picnic table and trying to keep him from eating their lunch. He was glad of the chance to get Face out of the van and into some fresh air. He was also hoping to get a moment alone to use the pay phone and contact Charlie. He was starting to feel a little desperate for information. Face had started talking to himself again, albeit a lot more guardedly than before. The fact that he was trying to hide it from everyone made it even more imperative that Murdock know if this had been going on for a while, or was a recent development. And then he had to figure out how to approach Face without spooking him or alerting the others. He wanted to know more of what was going on in his friend's mind before he mentioned anything to Hannibal or BA.  
  
He was still trying to figure out a strategy when he heard a vehicle pull into the rest area. He looked up, immediately concerned. His worst fears were confirmed, when a VW van came to a stop not far from their own, and three children and two adults climbed out. Immediately, Murdock stopped his dinner preparations and headed for the building in the center of the rest stop, his route paralleling that of the smallest of the children. Even with his long legs at a near trot, he was no match for the child's urgency. He watched anxiously as the little boy ran to the bathroom door and shoved it open.  
  
Seconds later, he heard the child's terrified yell for his father.  
  
Damn.  
  
He immediately slowed to a fast stroll, hoping the father would see him as a curious passer-by, and not the instigator of his son's fears. It seemed to work; Murdock received only a cursory glance as the man hurried toward the restroom. It did little to relieve Murdock's anxiety.  
  
He arrived at the door only moments after the boy's father, and what he saw made him wish vehemently he'd stayed at the VA. Nothing this crazy had ever happened there.  
  
The boy, who Murdock now saw was only four or five, was sobbing on his father's shoulder, obviously frightened. Hannibal was standing a couple feet from the man, impatient but maintaining a calm voice as he argued with the confused and upset parent. BA stood off to the side, both arms wrapped around Face, holding him up, while Face was apparently trying to escape from them all. Hannibal's voice echoed against the tiled walls.  
  
"Look, buddy, I'm telling you, nothing happened. My friend was in a car accident; your kid got scared by the scars. That's all that happened."  
  
"And I'm supposed to believe that? That he just looked at the guy and it scared the hell out of him? What else did you guys do?"  
  
Hannibal had apparently gone over this same conversation at least once already. Spotting Murdock, he practically slammed a cigar in his mouth and turned abruptly to BA.  
  
"BA, get him out of here. Murdock, give him a hand."  
  
Murdock scurried around the angry father and wrapped Face's arm over his shoulder, BA doing the same. Face was caught between trying to get away from all of them and trying to keep his head down. He failed at both. The threesome had only taken a couple of steps when Face's head came up and the father caught his first good view.  
  
"Good God!" His face went pale.  
  
"Go, BA!" The anger in Hannibal's voice was unmistakable. Moving faster than even Murdock thought possible, BA literally lifted Face off the ground and pulled him out of the door. Murdock, his grip broken by BA's sudden bolt, hurried to catch up.  
  
"Now, you and I have anything else to discuss?" Those were the last words Murdock heard as the door swung closed behind them.  
  
Meanwhile, BA had stopped a couple yards outside, where he was glaring menacingly at the remainder of the family, who had now gathered around the door. Adding to the confusion was Petey, barking and straining at his leash, frustrated and angry at being tied to the table, so far from his master.  
  
Murdock could've screamed.  
  
BA didn't wait for anything more to happen. Still half carrying, half dragging Face, he made a beeline for the van. Murdock raced after him, pushing past the bewildered family, and helped him get Face back inside. While BA stayed with Face, trying to calm him down, Murdock ran for the table, quickly untying the dog and grabbing most of the food. He arrived back at the van at almost the same time as Hannibal.  
  
Hannibal motioned both BA and Murdock to wait outside as he climbed into the van beside Face and slid the door shut. Petey jumped on the door a couple of times before BA glaringly reminded Murdock what a paint job cost and the two moved further from the van.  
  
Murdock wasn't sure what was going on inside that van. When Hannibal had stepped inside and closed the door, Face had been almost sobbing in fear or frustration or anger...it was hard to tell what his emotional state really was. He'd also been trying very hard to get up from the gurney. Where he intended to go, Murdock had no idea, and probably Face didn't either. He just wanted to get away.  
  
Minutes ticked by. Murdock and BA watched warily as the vacationing family crept to their van and drove away. Whatever Hannibal had said to the man after Murdock left, it certainly had had an effect. Murdock could only wonder what he was saying now.  
  
Then, as suddenly as he had closed it, Hannibal slung the door back and nodded at them, silently climbing into his normal seat. With a mutual shrug, he and BA headed to the van.  
  
Face was silent when Murdock stepped past him, and remained so even when Petey hopped up beside him. For once, the dog was subdued and did nothing more than lick Face's hand once before lying down. Face never acknowledged any of them. Murdock did note the fresh bandage on his leg.  
  
As BA pulled out of the rest area, Hannibal turned and looked at Murdock, a small smile on his face.  
  
"Why don't you pass around what's left of lunch, Captain? Then we'll find ourselves a nice place to stay for the night."


	38. Chapter 38

The motel they found wasn't exactly the Taj Mahal, but it was clean and cheerful, the rooms large and comfortable. It was still only late afternoon, but Face was sleeping on one bed, exhausted by the long day he'd already put in. BA sat close to the television, sound low so as not to disturb Face, although Murdock was doubtful anything short of a nine point earthquake would rouse him. Hannibal was perusing the local newspaper, cigar slowly smoldering away. Murdock had watched Face until he went to sleep, then watched a little television until he got tired of DIY shows, and then had wandered aimlessly about the room. Finally, BA threatened to tie him to a chair if he didn't settle somewhere, and Hannibal put down the paper and suggested the two of them take a walk.  
  
Murdock was glad of an excuse to get out of the room, but he was wishing Hannibal hadn't come along with him. He really wanted to find a phone and call Charlie. But he reasoned that he would at least be able to find out what Hannibal had said or done to calm Face down. Hannibal wasn't volunteering anything, and no one had wanted to ask while there was a chance Face would hear. They were all getting gun-shy about setting him off.  
  
The two men walked casually through the parking lot and out onto the street. The sun was just starting to dip behind the tops of the two- and three-story buildings that lined the main avenue, letting a pleasant coolness fill the air. It was a relief after the heat that had fought with the air conditioning in the motel room. Hannibal nodded silently at a small restaurant that advertised home cooking and take-out. They would stop there on the way back. Home cooking. Sounded great.  
  
They walked for quite some time, taking in the sights, not talking. It was relaxing. Murdock felt not just a twinge of guilt for feeling good, knowing that part of the reason for that feeling was not having Face around. No, he amended that. It was really not having Face's problems staring at him, pounding on him, wearing on him. Constantly waiting for the other shoe to fall.  
  
Was that how it had been for the others, with him? Was that why they were so skittish, those first few times they had broken him out? Waiting, always waiting, for the madness to come out, afraid to say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing? And why, as the breakouts became farther and farther apart, they had seemed even more desperate to "do something", to make it seem as if they were really glad to see him. Why they had leaped at his suggestion that he come along on that mission, because it was something... normal? Because it was something they could understand, could deal with? Because it gave them a Murdock they knew?  
  
He thought again of the relief he felt, without Face, without his problems. No, it wasn't that he didn't want Face around. He would always want that. Maybe, just maybe, that's how the team had felt about him...and how they were feeling about Face, now. Maybe he wasn't the only one.  
  
So engrossed was he in his thoughts, Murdock didn't realize Hannibal had come to a stop until he literally walked right into him. Hannibal chuckled indulgently. Apparently he had been well aware of Murdock's preoccupation. They were standing on the edge of a small park - a couple picnic tables, swing set and sand box, requisite baseball field in the distance. At this time of day, the park was nearly deserted. Hannibal sauntered over to the nearest picnic table and sat down, raising an eyebrow at Murdock. Not sure if Hannibal intended to discuss Face or other issues, Murdock hesitated just a moment before settling down opposite him at the table. For several long moments, the silence remained between them.  
  
"I want to know about the airfield, Captain." Hannibal's voice, while soft, still jarred Murdock with its suddenness. He shuddered inwardly. He really did not want to talk about that.  
  
"I, uh,...I just took care of the bad guys, Colonel. That's all."  
  
"Men died, Captain."  
  
Murdock looked down, concentrating on the ant that was trying to haul a crumb of bread across the table.  
  
"Captain..."  
  
"Colonel, I did what I had to. Those goons would have kept coming after him. He never would have been safe. I did what I had to." Murdock looked at Hannibal, eyes pleading, face determined.  
  
Hannibal sighed, looking around the park. "That's it, then? You're alright with it? Everything's just fine and dandy?"  
  
"No, they're not fine or dandy! Geez, Hannibal, what do you think I am? Some kind of machine? Or so totally nuts that killing a bunch of people doesn't bother me? So no, I'm not alright with it. But it had to be done, okay? It had to be. Just like Nam! Just like Nam. I wasn't alright with some of the things I did there, either. I hated it! I hate thinking about it! But there's a lot of shit I hate that I still do. Every time we go out on a mission, I..." Murdock stopped abruptly. He wasn't going to go there.  
  
Hannibal had other ideas. " 'Every time we go out on a mission'...what, Captain?" He stared at Murdock, surprise obvious on his face. "You...hate that?"  
  
"I don't...I just..." Murdock shook his head, defeated. "I want to be with you guys, I love that, Hannibal. I mean, you're my friends, you're my family, man! And I know what you're doing is good. Helping people and all...but..."  
  
"But...?"  
  
"But I don't like shooting at people, and getting shot at, or knowing that you guys could get killed...or...it's just too much like Nam, y'know? Too much..."  
  
Hannibal didn't say anything for a few minutes. Murdock watched the ant, not wanting to look at him, knowing he would see nothing but disappointment.  
  
Unexpectedly, Hannibal chuckled, a mirthless, bitter sound. Murdock looked up, startled.  
  
"Here I've been thinking I had gotten too close to all of you, that I'd made you all too dependent on me. That the problems we've had since the accident were because we were too close, that I had allowed us to become a family, instead of remaining a unit. In reality, I don't even know you."  
  
"Hannibal..."  
  
"No, it's okay, Murdock. I'm glad you told me how you felt. Finally. Or is this a new development?"  
  
"No, I've felt that way for a long time. I'm sorry, Hannibal. I should've told you..."  
  
"Why didn't you? Something about me that made you think you couldn't?"  
  
"Not just you, Colonel. I was afraid none of you would want me around if I didn't help out with the jobs."  
  
Hannibal shook his head, sadly. "That was never the case, Murdock. We all thought going on the missions was helping you. If we had known...well, it wouldn't have made that much difference. We would still have come for you whenever you wanted. We just would have done different things."  
  
"Are you sure, Colonel? 'Cause you-all didn't seem very comfortable with me those first few times."  
  
"Aw, hell, Captain, we just didn't know enough back then. We were afraid we'd say or do something to make things worse. We would've worked it out." Hannibal looked at Murdock, knowing he still wasn't believed. "Murdock, we don't leave anyone behind. Not then, not now. You know that. You are part of this team and always will be. We never wanted anything except what was best for you."  
  
Murdock watched the ant crawl toward the edge of the table. He reached over, letting the little insect drag the crumb onto the palm of his hand and then put his hand down on the ground. The ant, ungrateful wretch, carried his treasure off without a backward glance. Murdock watched for a long minute, not trusting himself. He believed Hannibal. All this time...But did that mean...  
  
"What about Face, Hannibal?"  
  
"Face?" Hannibal looked totally confused. "What do you think we've been doing, Murdock? I'm trying my damndest to keep him with us."  
  
"But maybe that's not what's best for him."  
  
Hannibal bristled. "You think he needs to be out there in the desert with that bunch of hippies? You think he'd be better off with them?"  
  
Murdock looked Hannibal straight in the eye now. "Maybe he would be, Hannibal. Because they don't expect him to be Face."  
  
"He is Face!"  
  
"Not any more, Colonel. You have to accept that. He's just...not."  
  
Hannibal jabbed the cigar on the table top, putting it out with vicious determination. Murdock sighed, thinking maybe this was one revelation too many for now. It was probably a good time to bring up that other subject.  
  
"What did you tell him, back there at the rest stop? How'd you get him calmed down so fast?"  
  
For a minute, Murdock thought Hannibal was still too angry to answer. Finally, the colonel sighed and smiled a little.  
  
"I just kept telling him I wouldn't let that happen again, that we'd protect him, and after he'd seen this doctor, we'd take him home."  
  
Murdock frowned. "That's all?"  
  
"Yeah, that's all."  
  
"That calmed him down?" Murdock stared at Hannibal, and from the too-innocent look on his face, knew there was more to it. And instantly, Murdock knew what it was.  
  
"Did you say 'home', or did you say 'the village'?"  
  
The set to Hannibal's jaw spoke before Hannibal did. "I told him home, Captain, and that's exactly what I meant. We'll take him home with us, where he belongs."  
  
"Hannibal, you know that's not what's he's thinking."  
  
"Right now, I don't care what he's thinking. It worked, didn't it? Got him out of that panic before someone got hurt. I'm fully prepared to deal with any problems when he discovers the truth, Murdock. But I think, in time, he'll understand that we're doing what's best for him."  
  
Murdock just glared at him.  
  
"Listen, Murdock, I know he's not ever going to be the man he used to be. I didn't want to admit it before, but after seeing him back there, and listening to you, I have to face facts. But I'm not going to abandon him to the desert any more than I would abandon you to the VA! We've done the same thing with Face as we apparently did with you - assumed he knew he would always be part of the team, assumed he knew we would eventually work through any and all difficulties. You brought it all home to me with your 'confession', Murdock, and that makes it all the more important to get Face back with us, make sure he knows he's accepted by us, no matter what. He belongs with us, just as much as you do."  
  
With that, Hannibal stood and started walking back in the direction of the motel. Murdock sighed. He and Hannibal had come to an understanding of sorts, he supposed, but there was still a long way to go. He just hoped Face could handle the trip.  
  
*****  
  
He was awake, but he hadn't moved. He didn't want the team to know. Not yet. His friends were talking to him a mile a minute, but he refused to answer them. After a while, they became quiet, left him in peace. He didn't mind them, usually, but right now he hadn't time for their jibber-jabber, as BA would call it. He had to think. Had to push through the last remnants of cotton from the painkillers, past the soreness, the stiffness. Past the physical. He had to think, and think clearly.  
  
Easier said than done. There were so many things running through his mind, so scattered, it was hard to gather them together, sort them out. They kept running into each other, making his head ache. Well, he wasn't a stranger to that feeling. Sometimes it was all he could do to remember what he was supposed to be doing next. Times like that he was glad Charlie was close by.  
  
Charlie. God, he missed Charlie. Charlie didn't know Face, didn't know Alvin, didn't know any of the people he'd been over his lifetime. Charlie only knew Ed, and accepted him. Liked him. Knew when he needed a little help, without making it seem like he was helpless. Because he wasn't helpless. He just got a little lost, now and then. They both knew it, and they both knew how to deal with it, and both of them were okay with that.  
  
He had to push Charlie out of his thoughts for now. The more he thought about his friend, the more he wanted to forget all of this bullshit and leave. And he couldn't do that. He'd promised Hannibal. More important, Hannibal had promised him. As soon as he saw this new doctor, Hannibal was taking him home.  
  
He smiled at that, and immediately felt Petey stirring beside him. He ignored him, still pretending to be asleep. He heard someone moving about in the room, but after a few moments, everyone quieted down again, and he breathed a little easier.  
  
Now he had to think about the other things Hannibal had told him. Which meant thinking about what had happened. He didn't want to; he was ashamed of the way he'd...all he had thought about was getting away. It wasn't all his fault, he was willing to grant himself that much. He was worn down with the constant ache, and painkillers, and traveling for so long. And the boy had taken him by surprise. That poor little kid. So scared. Who could blame him? Seeing a real live monster...it had been as much for that little boy as for himself that he'd wanted to run.  
  
Who was he trying to kid?  
  
He had panicked. He had allowed the same irrational fears that had plagued him in LA to take over. He hadn't allowed that to happen for a long time; sure, he'd come close, on those trips to the city. But he'd overcome it then; he should have this time. He should have. He was stronger than that. Even if Hannibal didn't think so.  
  
Hannibal had kept telling him they would protect him. Protect him. God. He felt two inches tall. The way Hannibal had talked to him, like he was talking to that frightened little kid. What made it worse was that it had worked. That voice, that tone, had gotten through the tumble of emotions racing through him and calmed him down, allowed him to think, at least to some small degree. It had been reassuring, at the time, to hear someone say they would take care of him. It had felt good to be able to let go, feel safe, let someone else make the decisions.  
  
And that scared him.  
  
He'd never felt safe, never in his whole life. Even before, with the team. He'd always known that some where, some time, some one would be able to get to him. The only safety was knowing that he had some control of things, however small. Even Alvin had had some control, had his own sort of safety that way. By hiding behind the shyness. He wouldn't give anyone the chance to hurt him. Templeton Peck, Face, they had even more control, because they weren't real. You can't hurt what doesn't exist, right? And Ed Mordake...that made him the safest of all.  
  
And yet it was never really safe. There was always that fear, behind all the facades, that one day his ticket would be called. That he would get killed, or injured. Physically. Mentally. Or just found out. Because he made mistakes, bad decisions, misjudgments. Sometimes, he just let his guard down.  
  
And that made Ed Mordake the scariest. Because he was all new, all open. There was nothing he could hide behind. Surrounded by strangers, people who only knew Ed, had no preconceptions, would take him for what he was, scars and all, and wouldn't turn away. Ed was just Ed to them. And he knew that eventually he would go to the village itself and let these people see him, and know him, and that they would accept him, as is. And he had reveled in that scariness and cocooned himself in that security.  
  
But then Hannibal had come for him, and offered to take care of him, and protect him, and in his confusion, he had welcomed that. Had wanted that, because then he would never have to be on his guard again, would never have to take chances again. Wouldn't have to worry about making the wrong choices, the wrong decisions. He wouldn't have the responsibility of having his own life any more.  
  
And that had sounded so good after all these years...  
  
And that's why he had to go home. Soon. Before he lost what little of himself he had left.  
  
Before he let Hannibal take it all away.


	39. Chapter 39

"So, have you heard anything?"  
  
"No, but it's early yet. They've probably only just found a place for the night."  
  
"Smith should've called by now anyway, just to let you know if everything was okay."  
  
"I'm sure if there were any trouble, he would have let me know."  
  
Nick shrugged, and Charlie knew his friend would never give Smith an inch. Charlie had to admit, he was disappointed that no one had contacted him. He was worried about Ed. Then again, with the FBI still hanging around, he understood why Smith might remain silent. He smiled, as he watched Nick wander over to the phone and pick it up, listening for a moment before replacing it.  
  
"Don't worry, Nick. It's working. Cal fixed it."  
  
Nick looked up, surprised. "There was a problem with it?"  
  
"Earlier, yes. But as I say, Cal fixed it. Just a loose connection."  
  
Nick frowned. "When did that happen?"  
  
"I'm not sure, sometime earlier today." Charlie poured himself a short glass of scotch. He had to watch that; it had been getting away from him a little bit, the last few days. "Cal was over, asking about Ed. In fact," Charlie chuckled, "he did almost exactly what you just did. Asked about Ed, then checked the phone. Only that time, there was no dial tone. So he fiddled with it a bit and got it working again."  
  
"Well, that was convenient, wasn't it?" Nick looked steadily at Charlie, who sighed. Why did it seem that the people Charlie was relying on now were the very ones Nick disliked?  
  
"Nick, what is it with you and Cal, anyway? You've never cottoned to him, I know, but..."  
  
"He makes me nervous, Charlie. Especially the last few days. He always was snoopy, but he's really going overboard now."  
  
Charlie looked up, surprised. "Really?"  
  
"Okay, I'm probably letting my dislike influence me, but he even talked to Doc about Ed. I mean, sure, everybody's curious about the FBI and Sinon and all, but no one else has gone that far."  
  
"When did he talk to the doc?" Charlie kept his voice casual, but he felt a little nudge in the back of his mind.  
  
"He was there practically before Doc opened up this morning." Nick moved into the kitchen, and set his coffee cup on the counter. "Well, I'm probably just making a mountain out of a molehill. I gotta get going, Charlie. Let me know if you hear from them."  
  
"Yeah, Nick, will do." Charlie was watching out the window, at the FBI agents changing shifts. As Nick moved toward the door, Charlie stopped him. "Nick, kinda keep an eye on things, will you?"  
  
Nick frowned, eyes narrowed. Charlie smiled back, almost as if he were embarrassed.  
  
"Chalk it up to paranoia, okay? Probably nothing but FBI willies getting to me."  
  
Nick looked at him for a long minute before nodding his head and leaving. Charlie stood where he'd been, watching Nick walk past the agents and head down toward the village. When he was out of sight, Charlie turned around and walked slowly over to his phone. He hesitated, then picked it up and carefully unscrewed the mouthpiece.  
  
*****  
  
"Hey, kid, wake up. Time to eat." Hannibal very gently nudged Face's shoulder, and was mildly surprised when Face sat up almost immediately. He didn't look the least bit sleepy, either. "Guess that nap did you a lot of good, huh, kid?"  
  
"Yeah, guess so." Once again, Face was keeping his head down, not allowing anyone to look him straight in the eye. Hannibal sighed. He'd hoped Face would be able to let his guard down that much, at least around the team. Eventually. Just had to have patience.  
  
In a few moments, the four men were seated around the room, quietly enjoying the home-cooked cuisine from the restaurant. Hannibal watched as his men slowly started relaxing, the television turned on low, the room cooling down to a more comfortable temperature, soft light from the low-wattage lamps, the food filling them up much better than the half-cold fast food of earlier that afternoon. He had a guarded hope that this would be a peaceful night for all of them.  
  
BA was eating thoughtfully, eyes on the television. But Hannibal noted that, fairly frequently, he would look over at Face, sometimes obviously, sometimes almost covertly, but always with a contemplative look on his face. Hannibal wondered if Face really had slept through the afternoon, or if he and BA had had time to do some talking. Or maybe BA was just thinking over the events from earlier. It was a bit unusual; BA typically spoke his mind, and wasn't one for deep thought. But tonight he was definitely thinking something over, and carefully.  
  
Murdock, on the other side of the room, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying his meal, but wasn't paying much attention to anything going on in the room. From the way he was staring at the wall over the bed, Hannibal had the feeling he wasn't even in the room. He would frown occasionally, and then nod his head, and the colonel figured Murdock was working out some sort of scheme. He didn't doubt for a minute that it had to do with Face. Somehow that was reassuring; if anyone knew how to deal with certain aspects of Face's problem, it was their insane pilot.  
  
Hannibal's gaze finally rested on his lieutenant. Face seemed quite content this evening, studiously working on his dinner, occasionally glancing up at the others, immediately ducking his head back down. The dog lay on the bed near him, and Hannibal almost chuckled aloud as he watched the two of them. Face would sneak a bit of meat off his plate, and cautiously lay it on the bed, never moving his hand more than absolutely necessary. The dog, in turn, would lay his head down tight to the bedspread, and stretch, ever so slowly, until his tongue could just catch the treat and draw it into his mouth. A quick gulp, and they were ready for the next little foray.  
  
Knowing the dog would end up with any scraps anyway, Hannibal smiled quietly, allowing the two con artists their little subterfuge, and went back to his own meal.  
  
*****  
  
Charlie moved restlessly along his porch, an eye on the FBI vehicles, an ear listening for the phone. He knew he was too tense, the last few days beginning to wear him down. Yesterday had been especially tiring, giving his deposition to the FBI, trying to remember what he could tell them, what he couldn't. How to give the government what they needed without giving away Ed, the team... It had been many years since he'd had to play those kinds of games.  
  
He glanced in through the open window at the phone. He knew someone would call tonight. Not Smith or the sergeant. They weren't the type. The pilot would call. Because the pilot worried, and wouldn't dismiss those worries. The pilot would recognize things the other two wouldn't see, or if they did see, would ignore. The pilot would also want to do something about those things he saw.  
  
Charlie would be that something. He knew it.  
  
He worried, though. He wasn't sure how sharp this Murdock really was. Hadn't taken him long to catch on to Ed, which was good. It was the way he'd reacted after that bothered Charlie. So focused. Single-minded. That could be a problem now. He needed someone who could think on their feet, adjust. Someone else who could play the game.  
  
Because somehow, Charlie didn't think they were dealing just with Sinon any more.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock slipped quietly out of the motel room. He knew Hannibal had seen him, but for whatever reason, had let him go without a word. BA and Face were sound asleep; Hannibal should've been. Murdock must have made some little noise, or maybe just the mere fact he was moving had alerted the colonel. At any rate, Murdock was grateful Hannibal had let him go, although he knew he would have to have a full explanation in the morning. That was okay. He figured he'd have some answers for Hannibal by then.  
  
He'd spotted the payphone as they'd left the little restaurant, just around the corner from the motel. He glanced at his watch as he stepped up to it. A little after one. He hoped Charlie wouldn't mind receiving a phone call this late; somehow he didn't think he would. Murdock quickly pulled the phone number from his wallet, dropped in some coins, and dialed.  
  
It only took three rings before Murdock heard a groggy voice answer. He spoke quickly.  
  
"Charlie, it's me. Look, I'm at a pay phone. The number's..."  
  
"NO! No, take this number down. Give me fifteen minutes, then call back." Charlie's voice rattled off a number. "Got that?"  
  
"Yeah, but, Charlie..."  
  
All he heard was a dial tone.  
  
He hung up the phone, puzzled. He had figured the FBI was still around, but would they have Charlie's phone bugged? Why? Surely they didn't expect any of Sinon's goons to call the man? He looked down at the number jotted on the palm of his hand.  
  
Man, nothing was ever simple...  
  
*****  
  
"I'm getting too old for this bullshit." Charlie shook his head as he slipped through the glass door at the rear of the cabin. It was partially hidden by a large barrel cactus and the overhang of the porch, and, as with all the doors and windows in the cabin, was well-oiled. Force of habit.  
  
It wasn't much of a job to slip past the FBI agents. They were looking for intruders working their way in, and, typical of government training, never considered watching for someone sneaking out. The only real test came after he'd crossed their line of defense, but by then he was close enough to the village proper and its familiar landscape that he could have danced a waltz around them and not have been seen. Still, it took him longer than he'd anticipated to reach Nick's back window. He was letting himself in when he heard the phone ringing, and had just straightened up in Nick's living room when he felt the blow to the back of his neck.  
  
Oh, damn...  
  
*****  
  
The phone rang and rang, and Murdock was getting nervous. He'd been gone from the room way too long; he wouldn't have much time to talk to Charlie. And he didn't like calling a number when he had no idea who might be picking up on the other end. He was about to hang up in defeat when the phone was picked up.  
  
"Hello!" The voice on the other end was familiar, at least, but sounded out of breath and quite angry.  
  
"Hello? Who's this?"  
  
"Who the hell are you calling?" There was a muffled curse in the background, and a fumbling about before Charlie's voice came through.  
  
"Murdock?"  
  
"Yeah, Charlie, what the hell's going on?"  
  
"I'll explain in a moment. Is Ed alright?"  
  
"Well, that's why I was calling. We made it as far as Bridgeport, with a couple problems, but we managed okay. But, uh, I was wondering if he'd ever heard...voices?"  
  
"Oh, that. Yes, he does, quite frequently. I'm sorry, I forgot all about that. I got to taking it for granted, I guess. It's not unusual with a head injury, you know."  
  
"Yeah, I knew a few guys at the VA like that. So, you played along with it?"  
  
Charlie sighed. He didn't really have time to discuss this as thoroughly as he'd have liked. "It was about the only route to take. If Ed thinks you accept the voices as normal, he won't try to hide his...conversations. And that's good, because these voices of his tend to lead him into dark alleys, if you get my drift. I have a theory about it being his way of venting his darker thoughts...anyway, if one does it right, without being confrontational, without directly attacking his 'friends', one can usually lead him away from the more...destructive avenues."  
  
"Destructive?"  
  
"His voices tend to feed his darker moods - his paranoia, depression, his need for isolation. Accept them, and you can influence him. Deny them, and you lose him. I came close many times before I understood that."  
  
"Okay. That's what I needed to know. Now, what's going on with the phone?"  
  
"I'm being bugged, Murdock. And it's not by the FBI. I'm afraid we have a traitor in our midst. So if you need to contact me again, use this number. It's Nick's. But you must be careful. I'm afraid they may know where you're heading, but whether they know your route is another thing."  
  
Murdock frowned. No one had thought about a Sinon contact in the village itself. A serious oversight.  
  
"Okay, Charlie, I'd better get off the line now. I'll try and keep you in the loop, but I'll be careful. Thanks."  
  
"Take care of him, Murdock."  
  
"Don't worry. We will."  
  
Murdock hung up and headed back to the motel. He didn't like the idea that they were still being pursued, any more than he liked to think of why. He didn't think whoever it was could actually be on to them yet. There had been too many opportunities for an ambush yesterday. They would have to make sure those opportunities didn't present themselves again.  
  
He stood before the motel room door, gathering his thoughts. He was afraid Hannibal and BA were about to have their rest interrupted, but they needed to make some plans and as soon as possible. God only knew when an attack may come. They had to be prepared.  
  
*****  
  
Charlie hung up, and looked over at Nick. He would've laughed at the mixture of anger and embarrassment on the man's face, if his head didn't still ache from the hit Nick had visited on his 'intruder'.  
  
"Well, my friend, you heard some of it. Let's have a coffee while I explain the rest..."  
  
*****  
  
Cal cradled the receiver between his ear and shoulder as he hurriedly gathered his essential belongings into the duffel. He needed to get hold of his people before hitting the road. His cover was blown, obviously, but at least he had the information he needed. Charlie may have been smart enough to catch onto the bug at his place, but he hadn't thought about Nick's.  
  
Charlie wasn't nearly as clever as everyone thought...


	40. Chapter 40

BA was shaking his head. The more Murdock talked, the harder it was for him to listen. He'd had suspicions, but most of the time he was able to push them away. Face maybe wasn't himself, but he wasn't crazy. BA had convinced himself of that. Now, here was Murdock trying to tell him that Face really was crazier than a bedbug. Hearing things. Voices.  
  
"He ain't crazy. That was jus talkin in his sleep, that's all."  
  
Murdock sighed, looked at Hannibal for support, but the colonel looked like he wasn't quite willing to accept things just yet, either.  
  
"No, you're right, BA. He's not crazy. But he's not talking in his sleep, either. It's because of the head injury, that's all. It happens a lot. The thing is, we have to go along with it, or it's just going to cause bigger problems. He'll start listening to those voices instead of us, and, from what Charlie said, they just make him more paranoid and depressed. And we sure don't need that now."  
  
Hannibal looked over at the bed, where Face was sleeping, oblivious to the men talking softly in the far corner of the room. Murdock had come in quietly a short while ago, and roused Hannibal and BA from a sound sleep. The first thing he'd told them, after explaining that he'd called Charlie, was that they might have someone on their trail. But before they could deal with that, he'd also told them what he had found out about Face's strange behavior in the van. Now, Hannibal was faced with some unknown enemy coming after them and taking care of a man who was not only wounded, but who could go off into La-La-Land at any given moment. He shook his head.  
  
Murdock hadn't missed the gesture. "It's not all that bad, Hannibal. Really. We just have to pay attention and talk to him, just like the voices are. Ask him what they're saying, and help him understand when they're misleading him. It's not as hard as it sounds."  
  
"The problem, Murdock, is what happens when these guys hit us. Because we all know they're going to. They wouldn't have gone to all this trouble to spy on Charlie otherwise. Now, it's one thing to deal with a man that's down; been there, done that. But these voices - what happens if they start talking to him at the wrong time, telling him the wrong things? What if he acts on what they tell him? From what I've seen, these 'friends' of his aren't exactly friends of ours."  
  
"One of us will have to stay with him, Hannibal, but we would do that anyway, right? 'Cause, I mean, even without the voices, he's not exactly ready to take on a couple of nasties single-handed. Although, if I recall, he was pretty determined to do just that a few days ago..." Murdock's eyebrows rose significantly as Hannibal scowled and BA just shook his head. "Look, fellas, I'm just saying he knows who the bad guys are. He may not like us very much right now, but he's not going to turn on us, no matter what his voices say. At least, not unless we give him reason to." Murdock stared at Hannibal, but Hannibal refused to rise to the bait.  
  
"Okay, Murdock, okay. Just make sure you stay with him when we run into these guys."  
  
"Well, actually, Hannibal, I was thinking maybe you or BA should do that."  
  
"You thought...what?"  
  
"Well, I think having one of you guys with him might be a little more...reassuring. For Face, I mean. And it'd be a great way to build some bridges and..."  
  
"Murdock, let's get one thing straight. I'm all for reassuring him, and I'm all for building bridges, but the middle of a firefight is not the time for either. We will all do what we can with Face and his voices - but when these goons show up, you keep Face out of trouble, and BA and I will take the bad guys out. Got it?"  
  
Murdock ducked his head. He'd pretty much figured on that reaction, but at least it got them past the voices. "Gotcha, Colonel."  
  
"Okay, now, these guys know where we're going, know about Bursey. So our first priority is to make sure they don't make him their bait. We need to divert them. Take them as far from Bursey as possible, find a spot just made for their ambush, and turn the tables..." He looked over at Face once again, thinking silently for a few minutes.  
  
"So these voices, they're just from the head injury. They can be controlled, if we're careful?"  
  
Murdock nodded, not sure where the colonel was going with that. Suddenly Hannibal grinned. Suddenly things were starting to feel...right.  
  
"Okay, let's get Face up and moving. I want his input on what we're going to do next."  
  
"You sure 'bout that, Hannibal?"  
  
"Murdock was right, BA. A few days ago, Face was able to think on his feet, well enough to literally give these guys a run for their money. And he managed to gather all that stuff to put them down, despite everything else. He's also been able to help out the people in the village. So just because he's got some problems doesn't mean he can't think. "  
  
"He ain't been thinkin very clear the last few days, Hannibal."  
  
"Temporary circumstances, BA. I think, once we explain what's going on, he'll be able to pull it together. At least for a while. And I need my lieutenant on this one." Hannibal stood, rubbing his hands with anticipation. "Guys, this is gonna be great."  
  
*****  
  
"They are on their way."  
  
"Good. I want to know the moment they have him."  
  
"The others?"  
  
"Doesn't matter."  
  
"It is very expensive, this...venture. Is he worth it?"  
  
"As a lesson to others, certainly."  
  
"What of our former partners? They seem to think they can salvage operations for us."  
  
"Bah. They think they have redeemed themselves by giving us this other man. They have a surprise coming."  
  
"Another object lesson?"  
  
"Precisely. There are, after all, traitors everywhere. We will find others who won't be as...careless."  
  
*****  
  
They had been driving for nearly two hours, and were almost to the outskirts of Reno. BA pulled the van off the road into the desert, and Murdock handed out the still warm breakfast they'd picked up a few minutes earlier. As they ate in the half-light of the rising sun, BA and Murdock listened as Hannibal and Face discussed their route and where they would make their stand, fine-tuning their plan.  
  
Whatever doubts BA had had about Face had almost disappeared. After his initial confusion at being awakened in the middle of the night, he had obligingly sat still while Hannibal changed the dressing on the injured leg. As Hannibal told Face what Murdock had found out about their new pursuers, it had been like watching a man walking out of a fog. At first hesitant, then growing more and more confident, Face had first listened, then discussed, and finally argued as their plan of attack developed.  
  
It wasn't quite the same as before, and BA knew he wasn't the only one who noticed it. Face was more serious now, more business-like. This wasn't fun and games any more, not for Face. And BA had to wonder how much he was thinking about their last mission together.  
  
Face figured, regardless of how secure Charlie thought Nick's place was, that their spy knew they were in Bridgeport. It was an assumption they had to go with; Nick was too close to Charlie for anyone to dismiss that. But they had been surprised by Face's impatient comment.  
  
"Charlie should've thought of that. He's been out of it too long..."  
  
He hadn't elaborated, but gone on with the planning, leaving the others to wonder even more about Charlie and his background. The plan, so far, was straightforward, direct. They needed to lead their adversaries away from Bursey, but that meant they had to make sure they could be followed. Which meant drawing attention to themselves.  
  
The first step in that direction was making sure they were noticed leaving the motel. A loud argument among the four men would take care of that, especially when it continued out of the room and into the parking lot. They would make sure the words Reno and Bursey were noticeable in the loud words. The coup de grâce was, of course, Face. He had to make sure he was seen by the night manager. As he himself said, no one would forget him.  
  
Murdock and Hannibal had talked to him for some time before finally admitting defeat. BA hadn't bothered. He'd looked at Face, saw that familiar set to his jaw, and known, no matter what it cost him, that Face would go through with it. The only thing BA could do was be there to cover his fall, as it were, if it came.  
  
The three of them started it, shouting out angry-sounding words about quitting, moving on. Face sat quietly on the bed, steeling himself. Within a few minutes, they were getting loud thumps on the walls from their neighbors. Nodding, Hannibal and Murdock moved out to the parking lot, tossing their belongings into the van, continuing the 'argument'. Face put his arm around BA's shoulder, and the two of them waited until their phone started ringing. Knowing that the night manager would be on his way when they didn't answer, they headed out the door.  
  
They still had to wait a couple of minutes for the manager, but then Face had played it to the hilt. Practically shoving himself away from BA, he reeled toward the man, shouting angrily about 'so-called friends' going back on their word. They all knew when the manager got his first good look at Face. BA hustled Face immediately into the van, and they took off with a squeal of tires.  
  
BA had had no doubt the first step in their plan had been successful. That Face had reclined silently on the gurney, ignoring any attempts to talk, for almost an hour after made him wonder if it had been worth it.  
  
*****  
  
"Cal's gone, Charlie. Left damn near everything behind."  
  
Charlie hung his head. How could he have been taken in so completely? He'd liked Cal. Really liked him.  
  
"Did he leave anything the FBI could use?"  
  
"I didn't see anything, but I just took a quick glance inside." Nick shuffled, looking out through the window. There were fewer agents again today. Nick figured once they had Sinon's head honchos in custody, these guys would disappear completely. "You going to tell the FBI about Cal?"  
  
"I don't know, Nick. On the one hand, I should. He was obviously in contact with someone, and the FBI would be able to find out who, maybe before they could do anything to Ed. On the other hand, if I tell them about Cal, there's more chance they'll find out about the Team. In fact, the pressure on me to tell them about Ed would probably be even worse. So far, they've been willing to go with my statements and the paper trail Ed uncovered; if I tell them about Cal, they might start thinking Ed knows something that maybe they should know about." Charlie shook his head. "I can't take that chance, Nick. I have to have faith that Smith can keep him safe. At least they've been warned."  
  
"Okay, Charlie, it's your call. I'll head back down to Cal's, see if I can find anything we can use." He stopped at the door. "He'll be okay, Charlie. Doc'll let us know as soon as he hears from his buddy up there in Redding. He'll be home in no time."  
  
Charlie just nodded, his thoughts miles away.  
  
*****  
  
BA was watching Face carefully in the mirror. He'd always respected the man's spirit, but that respect had grown a thousand percent today. As they'd pulled up to the restaurant outside Reno, Face had gotten very pale, and then started preparing to get out of the van. It took a direct scowl from BA to convince Face that they could make their presence known well enough without him this time. And, as Hannibal had tactfully added, they didn't want to make it obvious they wanted to be followed.  
  
They were headed for Eagle Lake, just south of the little town of Alturas. Based on the maps, Hannibal figured they could make a stand either in the mountainous area surrounding the lake, or, if there were too many tourists, in the flatter desert land just north of it. Either way, Hannibal and Face had worked out the logistics in great detail. Too much detail, to BA's notion. Just showed that both of them were nervous about it. And that wasn't good.  
  
Hannibal was still now, watching the road, watching the surroundings. None of them thought the bad guys had caught up with them yet, let alone had gotten ahead of them, but Hannibal knew better than to take anything for granted. Sinon had had helicopters at the one airfield, after all. Nothing guaranteed these new guys didn't have them as well.  
  
Face was another matter. As Hannibal had predicted, he'd been able to hold things together for a while, but the stress had definitely taken its toll. The last hour, his voices had apparently started in again. While Hannibal seemed to ignore it, letting Murdock deal with it, BA had listened. He wanted to see how Murdock handled it.  
  
Face hadn't really said anything. He'd just suddenly cocked his head to one side, obviously listening to something. Murdock had caught it right away, and asked Face point blank if someone was talking to him. That had startled Face.  
  
"Uh, no, of course not." He'd looked away, uncomfortable.  
  
"Oh, okay. I thought maybe your friends were back."  
  
"My friends?"  
  
"Yeah. They haven't been around for a while, have they?"  
  
Face had glanced suspiciously at the front seat. "I don't know what you're talking about, Murdock."  
  
Murdock didn't let that go. "Sure, you do, Face. You don't have to hide it. We all know about them, and it's okay."  
  
"I don't..." Face suddenly stopped, frowning. "No...they don't..." Again, Face stopped and sighed. He glanced up at the front again and shook his head. "You're the one with voices, Murdock. Not me."  
  
Murdock had leaned over, secretive. "Face, listen. I know they don't want anyone to know about them. That they want to keep it a secret. But Charlie knows about them, right?"  
  
Face had definitely been disturbed by that. He pulled back from Murdock, looked toward the door, mumbled something.  
  
"What, Face?"  
  
"Charlie said I was hearing things? He told you that?"  
  
For a moment, BA had held his breath, hoping Murdock had enough common sense to deny it.  
  
"Well, I asked him. And Charlie doesn't lie, does he? So he kinda had to tell me, right?"  
  
BA breathed out slowly. He thought he saw Hannibal relax a little, too. So he had been listening...  
  
Face thought for a moment. "Yeah, I guess. I wish you hadn't asked him."  
  
"I had to. I was worried about you. We all were."  
  
This time Face almost looked directly at Murdock. "Why? They're my friends."  
  
"I know that now. After I talked to Charlie. That's why I had to ask him. Especially since we hadn't seen you talk to them before. They haven't talked to you for a while, have they?"  
  
Face hesitated again before answering in a low voice. "No. I don't know why, but they...they haven't been around."  
  
"Yeah, we thought so. But they're back now, huh?"  
  
Again, Face had glanced up front. "Yeah...You guys don't think I'm...crazy?"  
  
"Nah." Murdock kept his voice casual. "So, what do you guys talk about? I mean, if you don't mind telling me."  
  
Face sighed. "We just...I don't know, whatever's going on at the time."  
  
Murdock nodded. "They help, huh? I mean, they give you a boost, right? Mine always did."  
  
Face looked ashamed for a moment. "Yeah. They, uh...they let me know about things, too. Things I don't always see, at first."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
Face swallowed. "I don't know. Just...things."  
  
"Like, good things? Bad things?"  
  
"Sometimes good things. Mostly if something bad might happen. If I'm messing up..."  
  
"Will you let us know if they warn you again, Face? 'Cause that'd be good to know - if there's bad stuff coming up."  
  
Face had just nodded, and looked away.  
  
Apparently the voices hadn't come back after that.  
  
Not yet, anyway.


	41. Chapter 41

Hannibal made a hurried phone call from the tourist center at Eagle Lake, finding out from Nick that Cal had disappeared, and Charlie's decision not to tell the FBI about it. Hannibal was thankful for that; the last thing they needed was the FBI on their tail, along with everything else. He told Nick to check his own phone, and, unhappy as Nick was about it, that they wouldn't be in touch again until it was 'finished'.  
  
Hannibal didn't go back immediately to the van. He wanted to think a bit, before going back to the questions he knew would be waiting. That, and the overall intensity building among his men. He had felt it, building slowly as they approached Eagle Lake. He didn't like it. This wasn't the Jazz building, that taking the tiger by the tail, seeing how long you had to hang on before the tiger gave up.  
  
The Jazz made you feel alive. And thankful.  
  
This was...different. Altogether different.  
  
It was Face. Face who was setting the tone, and Face was...hell, he didn't seem to care one bit that it was his life at stake. More like they were just dealing with another client. And one he didn't seem to like all that well.  
  
He looked over toward the van, parked away from any other vehicles, in the deep shade of the tall cedars. The side door was open just enough to let a cool breeze in. Hannibal could see Murdock, seated next to Face. BA leaned against the side of the van, next to the open door. Hannibal could only see Face's legs, one foot restlessly bobbing, the rest of him hidden behind the door. Murdock caught him watching them and frowned; Hannibal turned back toward the phone. He needed a few more minutes to himself.  
  
He had been listening, when Murdock talked to Face about his voices. He knew there was something off about that. Something Face had said, or maybe hadn't said, that bothered Hannibal. He just couldn't put his finger on it. He knew he had been surprised at the reserve Face had in talking about them; he hadn't expected that with Murdock. Of all of them, he knew Face felt most comfortable confiding in Murdock. So why the caution this time? Hannibal had expected Face to be relieved to be able to talk openly...  
  
What was it he had missed? What exactly were those voices telling Face?  
  
*****  
  
"Okay, that looks like the phone booth. Check the number. I'll see if the manager knows anything."  
  
While his partner headed for the booth, the driver of the Jeep strolled over to the motel office. Inside, he found a rather thin, pale man sitting behind the desk, talking animatedly to a young woman who was leaning against the counter, listening raptly.  
  
"You shoulda seen the guy, Lizzie! Man, I never seen such a sight. And that black dude that lugged him into the van - I wouldn't wanna meet him in some dark alley. Jeez Loo-eez..."  
  
"Excuse me."  
  
Both clerks looked up, startled at the intrusion. The man jumped up and put on a fake smile.  
  
"Hi, can I help you, sir?"  
  
"Yes, Agent Black with the FBI." He flashed his badge and saw the immediate effect his announcement had on the pair. "I'm looking for some men who may or may not have stayed here last night. Four of them - an older white man, a black man, muscular, and two other white men, one with, uh, a disfigurement."  
  
"Oh, geez, yeah, they were here, alright! I was just tellin' Lizzie here about it. They cut up somethin awful early this morning. I almost had to call the cops on 'em."  
  
"Oh, really? What kind of altercation went on?"  
  
"Oh, they were havin some kinda argument amongst themselves. The one guy, the one was scarred up, he was yellin somethin about them breakin their word, or somethin like that. He come at me like he was gonna beat the shit outta me."  
  
The agent looked skeptical. "Are you sure about what they were saying?"  
  
"Oh, yeah. I heard one of 'em, that older fella, say somethin about Reno, and the other white guy, he was yellin somethin about bursting or somethin. Regular free for all, it was. Woke up most of the other guests, and I had a hell of a time calmin 'em down..."  
  
"What time was this?"  
  
"Oh, I dunno, maybe two, two-thirty."  
  
"And they left immediately after? Before you could call the police?"  
  
"Yep. They was all paid up, so I figgered good riddance, y'know?"  
  
"Hmm, yes. Well, just as well you didn't get too involved with them. They're dangerous fugitives."  
  
If possible, the man paled even more. "Dangerous..."  
  
"Yes. Well, as long as you didn't call the police, we'll take it from here. Thank you." The agent walked quickly out of the office, leaving the clerks staring at each other in shock.  
  
He met his partner at their vehicle. "The number matches. They made the call from here."  
  
"Yeah, they were definitely here. Took off maybe four, five hours ago. Apparently headed for Reno."  
  
"Reno? I thought..."  
  
"Well, apparently they've had a falling out. C'mon, let's see if we can pick up their trail."  
  
"Damn. Reno. We could lose them easy there."  
  
"Not unless they can hide Baracus and Mordake. And somehow, I don't think that's going to be so easy."  
  
*****  
  
BA wasn't happy. Things weren't going nearly as smoothly as they had earlier in the day. For one thing, Hannibal had taken way too long making that phone call. Face had gotten more and more tense, waiting. BA knew those damn voices were talking at him again, the way he sat there, his head turned to the side, frowning. Murdock tried to talk to him, get him to tell him what they were saying, but Face just frowned harder and ignored him. Then Hannibal had finally come back to the van, and things just got worse.  
  
When Hannibal told them that Cal had taken off during the night, the others had been angry, but Face had looked absolutely shocked.  
  
"Are you sure? I mean, maybe there was some emergency, or something..." BA couldn't understand why Face seemed so desperate for another explanation.  
  
"Face, why else would he leave like that, without telling anyone? No, he's the spy. No question about it."  
  
"But, he was...he was Charlie's friend. And he...I..."  
  
"What, Face? What about you and Cal?"  
  
"I met him, once. Out in the desert."  
  
Hannibal frowned. He hadn't thought Face had known anyone other than Charlie, Doc Feist, and Nick.  
  
"And...?"  
  
"And...he was nice. He wasn't..." Face was floundering for words, embarrassed and dismayed at the same time. Finally, in a quiet voice, almost inaudible, he said, "He didn't look away..."  
  
Hannibal cleared his throat. "Did he know who you were?"  
  
"Yeah. Everybody in the village knows...I guess that's why he was...prepared for me."  
  
"Did you tell Charlie?"  
  
"No."  
  
Hannibal looked at him, puzzled. "Why not?"  
  
"I couldn't. Charlie would've made me go into the village if he'd known. Would've said I should meet the others."  
  
"What makes you think that?"  
  
Face's silence made it obvious who made him think that.  
  
"So, what did you two talk about?"  
  
Face shrugged. "We didn't really talk that much. He said he was looking at all the old gold mines. Was interested in their history. We talked about..." Face frowned, and suddenly shook his head, angrily. "I know I was stupid!"  
  
"Stupid? No way, man! How was you to know?" BA was angry at Face now. How could it be stupid to finally reach out to someone, especially someone who pretended to be a friend? But Face wasn't listening, not to BA.  
  
"I know, I know..." He looked over at Murdock, but even BA could see he was looking right through him. "I should've known. I know..."  
  
"Face! Hey, buddy, hey - you couldn't." Murdock was getting a little nervous. He didn't want Face going off in the wrong direction, and he knew that's exactly where the voices were pushing him. "I don't care what your voices think, Face. They don't know what...they're mistaken, Face."  
  
Face's eye focused, steely.  
  
"Hey, it happens to everybody, right? So maybe you misjudged Cal, it's understandable. He fooled Charlie, too, right?"  
  
Face looked uncertainly at Murdock, then at the others.  
  
"Exactly, Face. Look, if you had had time to get to know Cal better, you'd have seen through him. I know you would have." Hannibal smiled, reassuringly.  
  
"Yeah, man. You'd'a spotted him soon enough, if he'd been around you more."  
  
"But...no, they're right, I should've known. Nobody would..." Face looked down, shaking his head.  
  
"No, Face, this time they aren't right. I know, I know, they can tell you a lot of things, but, like I said, everybody makes mistakes. Everybody. This time, they did. No big deal. Okay?"  
  
"But..."  
  
"Hey, look, man. You sayin nobody could like you, lookin like you do? That's just bull, man! What about Charlie? He's your friend, right? He don't care what you look like. Or you think he's not really your friend, either? Or what about us, huh? D'you think we care what you look like?"  
  
Face didn't answer. He stared down at the floor for several minutes, as the others looked at each other, unsure. Finally, Face looked out the open door, and there was that set to his jaw again.  
  
"We'd better get going. Those guys aren't going to wait forever."  
  
Hannibal looked at the others, shaking his head before they could try to continue the discussion. Face was right, they probably didn't have a lot of time left. It didn't mean the conversation was over. Far from it.  
  
At least he knew what kinds of things those voices were telling Face. The kinds of things that would make him suspicious of everyone, even Charlie. Things that would make him turn away from people more and more, turn to "them" more and more, make him spiral down into his own little hell where they would try to keep him. Well, the hell with that! He would make sure, the very next opportunity they had, that this discussion would be finished. Once and for all. And he'd put those damn voices in their place.


	42. Chapter 42

Murdock made one more attempt to talk about the voices, quietly, though. He knew Hannibal would be less than thrilled opening that can of worms when they should be preparing for the mission. He needn't have worried; Face cut him off with an impatient wave of his hand and a deep frown. He was watching the road ahead, sitting up so he could see as clearly as possible through the windshield. Mr. Business again. Murdock sighed and settled back in his seat, still keeping a sharp eye out for any intrusions.  
  
They were moving slowly away from the mountains surrounding the lake and moving toward the small town of Alturas. Hannibal wanted to find a spot for the ambush far enough from the town so as not to bring any law down on them, close enough that they could call them in when the team was finished. It also had to be a place that didn't look like an ambush. That looked...innocent.  
  
Face found it. It was definitely innocent looking. A narrow farm drive, a small, rocky hill on the left, rolling grassland stretching along the highway on the right. The perfect place for someone to stop if they were having car trouble. BA pulled the van in a few yards, so it was still visible from the road, but not obviously so. Hannibal and BA joined Murdock at the side of the van, while Face leaned forward in his seat to listen in.  
  
"Okay, guys, let's get this scene set. BA, you take care of the engine. Make it look good. I'm sure they'll check it out. And remember, they may know about your talents, so don't make it too simple."  
  
BA just scowled. As if he didn't know how to rig an engine...  
  
"When you're done with the engine, I want you up on the hill, facing the back of the van. I'll be watching the front. Murdock, you'll be down the hill on the other side..."  
  
"Uh, Colonel..."  
  
"...Face, you'll be with Murdock. I want you to stay back, okay? No heroics with that leg. You cover the rest of us..." Face looked up, surprised.  
  
"That's not how we planned it..."  
  
"I know, Face, but..."  
  
"Uh, Colonel, could I talk to you a minute?"  
  
Hannibal was a bit startled at the interruption. "What, Murdock?"  
  
"Uh, I just, uh..." He glanced quickly at Face, then back to Hannibal.  
  
Hannibal looked over at Face, who was staring at the floor, obviously not happy at this latest change of plans. He hadn't seen them looking at him. BA did see the exchange.  
  
"Hey, Hannibal, you and Murdock better check out the hill there. Find someplace comfortable." BA jerked his head toward the meadow where Murdock and Face were supposed to hide. Taking the hint, the two men moved casually away from the van. Face watched disinterestedly, but BA noticed his foot was starting to tap again.  
  
Murdock and Hannibal stopped a few yards away, pretending to survey the grounds.  
  
"Okay, Captain, spill it."  
  
"Uh, how long you figure before they get here?"  
  
"They could be here any time, Murdock."  
  
"Or maybe hours from now, right?"  
  
"Well, yeah, that's possible..."  
  
"Or maybe they haven't even picked up our trail."  
  
"Murdock, we left a trail a blind man could follow."  
  
"If that blind man got on the trail to begin with."  
  
Hannibal sighed. "What's your point, Captain?"  
  
"I'm just thinking we should try and find out if they really are coming. Because if they aren't, we're putting Face through a lot for nothing."  
  
Hannibal was immediately on his guard. "You see something I didn't?"  
  
"I think he's listening an awful lot to those voices. He's not talking back, but he's listening. And this is the first mission for him since...well..."  
  
"He took on Sinon just fine. And this time, he's got us with him. It's a simple takedown, Captain." He looked closer at Murdock. "But it's also your first mission since the accident. So is this about Face - or about you?"  
  
"Me? I'm fine and dandy, Colonel. But, Face..."  
  
"I'm not buying it, Murdock. You think I've already forgotten our little talk? You think I haven't thought about it, a lot? I've been watching you, Captain."  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about, Hannibal. I'm fine."  
  
"You're too focused, Murdock. Everything you do, everything you say, concerns Face."  
  
"Well, geez, Hannibal, I..."  
  
"Where's Billy, Murdock? Or the caped crusader? Or the odd little pet hiding in your pocket?"  
  
Murdock was silent. What could he say? He hadn't allowed himself those escapes, not this time. He hadn't allowed himself anything. Not after the airfield. Not after seeing Face's little world in the desert. Not after seeing how Hannibal and BA were acting, so close to resolving things, but still so far. There were too many things going on, too much he had to keep track of. He couldn't lose himself, not this time.  
  
"Murdock, I mean it. If there's a problem with you or Face, I need to know. Because the time to find out is not when those goons get here. I don't want anyone else to..." Hannibal stopped, shook his head. Both men were silent for several moments. Murdock knew what Hannibal was asking, what he needed to know. Murdock had to think hard, honestly. He had to know that what he told Hannibal was the absolute truth.  
  
Murdock swallowed. "I can keep him safe, Colonel. I can watch your backs. But I guess that's all I can promise. I'm sorry, Hannibal."  
  
"If that's all you can do, Murdock, and you're sure you can do that, I can't ask any more. BA and I will handle the rest of it." Hannibal clapped his hand on Murdock's shoulder. "Now, let me see about finding where these scuzzballs are for you, okay?"  
  
"How you going to do that, Hannibal?"  
  
"The FBI is going to make some inquiries, Captain." Hannibal grinned as he started back to the van.  
  
*****  
  
Something was off. Somehow wrong. It wasn't supposed to be this way. He was caught up in the team again. That wasn't supposed to happen.  
  
What did you expect? You let him take over.  
  
No, I...  
  
Yes, you let him take over. Just like always.  
  
What do you mean?  
  
You know. It's why you left.  
  
No, I left because I was tearing them apart.  
  
Reminded him of his failings, didn't you? Think he's forgotten that?  
  
No! It wasn't his fault.  
  
You only went along because you knew he'd do what he wanted anyway.  
  
No. He would've listened if I had said no.  
  
You know that's not true. Don't lie to us.  
  
I'm not.  
  
You want us to go away? You must, if you're going to lie to us.  
  
No! No, don't go.  
  
He's going to get you killed this time.  
  
No, we planned this together. He's listening to me.  
  
He lets you think he's listening. That's all. Wait and see.  
  
Face shook his head, looking around, confused for a moment. Murdock had said something, something about the voices. He waved him off. Leave me alone. He stared ahead, remembering they were looking for a place, the place, to set up their ambush. At least he hadn't said anything out loud this time. He had to watch that. Make Hannibal think he was going off the deep end if he wasn't careful. So the team knew about them; so what? Didn't mean he had to let Hannibal in on everything, did it?  
  
Especially if his friends were right.  
  
It was only a few minutes later he spotted it. The perfect place. He pointed to it, not saying a word. BA nodded, slowed quickly and pulled into the narrow lane. Face looked around carefully as Murdock stepped past him, joining Hannibal and BA just outside. He only half-listened as Hannibal started issuing orders. Not until he gave Face his instructions.  
  
"...Face, you'll be with Murdock. I want you to stay back, okay? No heroics with that leg. You cover the rest of us..." Face looked up, surprised.  
  
"That's not how we planned it..."  
  
"I know, Face, but..."  
  
"Uh, Colonel, could I talk to you a minute?"  
  
Face stared at the floor as Hannibal dealt with Murdock. This wasn't how they'd planned it. Not at all. Face was supposed to stay in the van, act as decoy, keep the scum's attention on him while the others got the drop on them. Now he was supposed to hide away in the grass? Like some...incompetent?  
  
We warned you, didn't we?  
  
Face scowled, refusing to answer.  
  
Just like always. Just like we said. He only pretends to listen to you. He doesn't.  
  
Face looked up as Hannibal came back toward the van, cigar stuck in that big grin.  
  
He doesn't listen to you. Not now. Not ever. Because he knows...


	43. Chapter 43

"Hey, yeah, this the, uh, Stowaway Motel? Yeah, hey, this is Agent Fulbright, FBI. We're lookin into a little problem you fellas had there the other night...Yeah, some of my colleagues shoulda been there...Oh, yeah? What's that? No, no, I didn't get a report..." Hannibal partially covered the mouthpiece and yelled toward the road, "Hey, Decker! Where's that report from the Stowaway? Well, get your ass in gear!" Grinning widely, he turned back to the phone. "Yeah, yeah, you know, government bureaucracy and all. So anyway, when did the agents show up?...Yeah, that was quick, all right. Listen, since I don't have their report right here, why don't you tell me what you told them, okay? Yeah..."  
  
Moments later, Hannibal lit another cigar and grinned at his team. "Well, seems like a couple FBI agents showed up at the motel a few hours after we left. Clerk there gave them a blow by blow, including our mention of Reno. Yeah, these FBI guys were in a big hurry after that. Too big a hurry to check with the local constabulary."  
  
"So, we know they're on their way to Reno. Now what?" Hannibal's grin faltered at the tone in Face's voice.  
  
"So, I'll call the other places we stopped at and see if these guys have shown up yet. We made enough noise along the way, in all the obvious places, and if they're posing as FBI, they may just check in with the local authorities."  
  
Face said nothing more, but leaned back in his seat and closed his eye. Hannibal looked at him for a moment. It wasn't hard to see that Face was getting exhausted, but Hannibal knew there was more to it than that. Not only was the Jazz missing; the all-business attitude seemed to be steadily moving into something almost...angry. He had a pretty good idea where that was coming from, too.  
  
Clamping down on his cigar, Hannibal turned to the van's phone once again. Two more phone calls, and he sat back, grinning.  
  
"Time to get set up, guys. Depending on how much time they waste at Eagle Lake, they should be here within the hour."  
  
"How you figure that, Hannibal?"  
  
"They found that little gas station, but haven't been to the cafe."  
  
"So?" BA scowled. Sounded more like the guys had lost the trail.  
  
"It was right after they got to the gas station that I called Nick. I did tell him to check his phone, but after I rather carelessly told him we were at Eagle Lake." Hannibal clapped his hands together. "I love it..."  
  
*****  
  
"How many?"  
  
"Six. They'll meet us in the parking lot where the call was made. I don't expect to find Modake there, but we're not that far behind them now."  
  
"You think they're hiding out at the lake?"  
  
"No, they know someone's after them now, after that call to Wasseman. They'll try to shake us off, then head back to LA. We just have to catch up before they can reach home ground. Shouldn't be a problem."  
  
"You think we'll have enough men? These people have a reputation."  
  
"But they're also off their game. This falling out they've had is affecting them badly. Like Smith letting it slip where they were; that's sloppy. No, they have a wounded man, a noncombatant at that, they're distracted, fighting amongst themselves - eight of us against that? It'll be a walk in the park." He looked at his partner, smiling grimly. "We'll get Mordake, take him back to our employers, and collect a nice, fat commission."  
  
"What about the others?"  
  
"That, my friend, is entirely up to them."  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal watched, smiling softly, as BA worked on the engine. Murdock stood nearby, quiet. Face was still in the van, ignoring all of them.  
  
"They're not gonna be stupid enough to stick with just two guys, Hannibal. You know that."  
  
"I know, BA. But we'll have the element of surprise on our side. They aren't going to expect to find the van broken down, abandoned. It'll give them pause, and that's when we hit them. Piece of cake, BA. Right?"  
  
BA just looked up from his work, a skeptical frown on his face. Hannibal just grinned more. BA shook his head, slamming the hood down.  
  
"Done, Hannibal. I'll head up the hill."  
  
"Okay, BA. C'mon, Murdock. Let's get you and Face set up. I want everyone in place long before the scuzzballs get here."  
  
Murdock nodded, preoccupied. Hannibal watched as he moved around the van to get Face. He wished he could have both men closer when the action started. Not that he didn't trust Murdock to do his job, limited as that was. He was more worried about the effect Face might have on him.  
  
He was worried about the effect Face was having on all of them.  
  
He came around the van and found Face already out, leaning heavily on Murdock, obviously favoring his bad leg. Hannibal immediately got concerned. He hadn't thought to actually check the wound after Face's performance at the motel. Too much adrenaline flowing at first, and after...well, Face hadn't seemed in any discomfort. Not until now.  
  
"Face, you all right? We should probably change that dressing..."  
  
"I'm fine. It's just a little stiff, that's all." Face wouldn't look at him, not even a glance. Murdock did, and shook his head. The two men moved off toward their position, leaving Hannibal standing. BA came over, wiping his hands, watching Hannibal.  
  
"He'll be all right, Hannibal. They both will, once this is over and done. We'll go see that doctor, and things'll be better. You'll see."  
  
"I hope you're right, BA. Because right now, I just see things falling apart. No matter what I try, no matter what I say."  
  
"Well, maybe sometimes it's better not to do or say anything. Just let things go the way they're s'posed to."  
  
"And if that means losing him? Or Murdock?"  
  
BA looked down at the ground. "Maybe we already have, Hannibal. Have you thought of that?"  
  
"Yes, I've thought of that, BA, but I'm not ready to give him up. Either of them. They've been part of this team too long. It'll be a cold day in hell before I let them go."  
  
BA sighed as Hannibal stalked to the back of the van and started pulling out their weapons. Silently he took his automatic from the colonel and headed up to his position. Hannibal hauled two more rifles down to Murdock, who had just gotten Face safely concealed behind a low rock. Murdock lay one rifle down next to a thick bush, and slung the other over his shoulder.  
  
"You two set?"  
  
"Yeah, Colonel."  
  
Hannibal looked down at Face, who sat back against the rock, staring off across the field toward the distant road. Without saying a word, he leaned down and lay Face's Colt on his lap. Face jumped, staring down at it.  
  
"Watch yourself." Hannibal didn't wait for a reply, but headed determinedly up the hill to his own position.  
  
Murdock watched Face for a moment. "Okay, muchacho?"  
  
Face picked up the Colt, automatically checking the chamber. He glanced up at Murdock before staring back across the field.  
  
"Just peachy, Murdock. Just peachy."  
  
*****  
  
"All right, stay spread out. If they're watching, we don't want to alert them to a convoy. We'll take the lead. Put a three minute interval between the vehicles. Anyone see anything, use the secure bandwidth and code. If they're spotted on the road, stay back unless you have to pass. Don't do anything to catch their attention. If you see them off-road, drive at least another mile before stopping. No one is to take them on until I give the signal. I don't want them taking us out, one by one. Until then, we're just tourists, nothing more. Understood?"  
  
His men nodded. He looked at them, satisfied. Zealots, patriots, blending in until they were needed for little jobs like this. Practically bred to take orders. They would do as they were told, and those who survived would go back home, return to their cover lives, maintain those covers until they were needed again.  
  
He shook his head. Cannon fodder, or sacrificial lambs? Depended on which side you were on. All he knew, all he cared about, was that these men would do what was needed to complete the mission, regardless of personal safety. Despite his earlier words to his partner, he was not taking Colonel John Smith for granted. Once the element of surprise was gone, he had no doubt they would be facing seasoned soldiers, fighting for their existence. And, off their game or not, they could make mincemeat out of his men if given the chance.  
  
He just had to make sure they didn't get that chance.  
  
*****  
  
BA could see the road from his vantage point, and he kept an eye on it. He wished he knew what these guys were driving, but unfortunately, no one had paid attention to that. How many were coming? How much armament did they carry?  
  
How determined were they?  
  
BA was nervous and he didn't like that. He couldn't feel the Jazz playing, not in himself, not in Hannibal. None of them. And, for possibly the only time since that first foray under Hannibal's leadership, he wondered if they would come out of this one.  
  
It was maybe an hour later that he knew they were coming. He'd seen several vehicles go by on the road, none of which seemed to pay any attention to the van. But then he saw them. Two, maybe three guys, sneaking through the tall grass, Face and Murdock between them and the van.  
  
Damn!  
  
He looked around, and saw two more, coming from the north, heading toward the van. A jeep suddenly came down the road from the north, and he recognized it as having passed by, going the other direction, nearly a half hour before. It parked several yards behind the van, and two men stepped cautiously from it.  
  
With a sinking feeling, he cautiously looked to his right, farther up the hill he and Hannibal were on. Sure enough, he spotted the muzzle of an automatic rifle, pointing down toward the van.  
  
Damn...


	44. Chapter 44

He wasn't sure, at first, if he'd actually seen them or not. He'd been sitting here for so long, listening, but not listening, to his friends, to the rodents in the tall grass, the birds wheeling above. Feeling the heat. He should've been used to it, but this was different from home. He wasn't walking around, climbing down into cool crevices, standing under the trees and savoring the sparse shade, feeling the breeze as it drifted around the rocks. Here he just sat and felt his body slowly baking.  
  
Thinking.  
  
He was aware of Murdock a few feet away. Knew he was dividing his attention between the van and Face. Murdock shouldn't be doing that. Should be concentrating on the job. So should he. Except he wasn't part of it any more. Or was he? Part of the team; not part of the team. Didn't know which he was, what he wanted. Did Hannibal?  
  
Shunted off to a safe place. Hidden. Protected.  
  
He knows.  
  
He looked at the Colt, laying by his side. What a joke. Hannibal trying to make him feel useful. Feeling sorry for him. The gun didn't even feel right, and that bothered him, too. He'd had it specially tooled and balanced, made uniquely his. He hadn't told the others about that, though. He knew they would have laughed at the "typical Face extravagance". It wouldn't matter that it was all his. His. They had never understood what that meant. Probably never would.  
  
He looked out at the meadow again. This time he was sure he saw something moving. Pretty sure. Hell, he wasn't sure of anything he saw, or heard, or thought any more. Not for the first time that afternoon, he wished Petey was with him. Petey would've known if there really was something out there, would've warned him. But Petey was tied up in the van. Hannibal's orders. Didn't want the dog giving them away, or getting in the way. Face looked over his shoulder, trying to see the van. All he could see was the open side door. He hoped Petey was okay; neither had been happy with the situation, but Hannibal was the boss.  
  
Just like always.  
  
He turned back to the meadow, and saw clearly the shape of a man moving through the grass, maybe a hundred feet away. A movement to the right of that caught his eye. Another man. He suddenly felt cold. Very cold. They were here. They were coming. For him.  
  
He should tell Murdock. Now. Tell him. Warn him. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He knew what was going to happen. And it scared the hell out of him. He didn't want to go back to those people. He didn't want to get the shit beaten out of him again. Or worse. But he knew that was exactly what would happen. They'd been right, just like always.  
  
Hannibal was going to get him killed.  
  
*****  
  
BA took up his radio and then set it down again. The damn things squawked. If he called Hannibal or Murdock, the guys coming up would know exactly where they were. How the hell had they gotten so close without being seen? Who the hell were these guys?  
  
He glanced up again at the man on top of the hill. He still had his weapon pointed at the van, but he had his head up, just a bit. BA looked down at the two men from the Jeep. They were moving slowly toward the van, not paying any attention to their surroundings.  
  
Confident. They knew their men were in place, watching for the team.  
  
That wasn't good.  
  
He looked over at the two men moving up on Murdock and Face. Another glance to the north, at the two men coming in there. They were nearly as well hidden as the other two. BA frowned. A little overconfident. As Hannibal would say, it was a classic diversion tactic. These guys all figured the team would be watching the Jeep guys, and not see the North guys or Murdock's. He shook his head. Dumb. The only one BA was really concerned about was the sniper up above. He wasn't sure the guy was in a place where Hannibal could see him. Murdock might have, but he was so far below the road surface, he couldn't have seen the others yet.  
  
These guys wouldn't have the advantage of a complete surprise, but close enough.  
  
BA came to full alert as he heard Face's dog start barking. He paid no attention to the men by the van; he turned quickly, quietly, taking a bead on the sniper. Sure enough, the rifle was no longer pointed toward the van. The bastard was putting his sites on Hannibal. BA lifted his own rifle, taking careful aim. He wasn't as good at this as Face - no one was - but he wasn't bad. His finger tightened on the trigger. He took a deep breath, slowly exhaled.  
  
He was about to set hell loose.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal felt it building, just a bit. Old habits die hard. Seeing those guys, moving in, the expectation of the engagement to come...God help him, but it felt...good. Felt right. Different from that scene at Queenie's. Those were just thugs. These guys...no, these guys were good. They were coming for the A-Team, and they were prepared for the A-Team. This wasn't going to be just a simple take down, despite what he'd told Murdock. This was going to be a fight.  
  
A real fight.  
  
He knew the two guys walking up to the van were just decoys. He'd seen the others. Knew BA must have seen them, as well. He frowned. Murdock had no idea what was coming up behind him, but surely Face had seen them. Hell, from where he'd been sitting, he must be looking right down their throats. So why hadn't he let Murdock know? Well, in this heat, and exhausted as he was, maybe he was just asleep. Had to be. Wasn't like Face. Back in Nam, he would've been on the alert, seeing things almost before they were there...jobs stateside, he was tight, he was always tight just before...but then...well, they could handle it. Between the two of them, he and BA would give Murdock enough cover to take care of those two. All they really had to do was send one shot behind the pilot; he'd know the back door was open...just had to wait and see who fired the first round.  
  
Hannibal turned his attention back to the guys coming in from the north. Instinctively, he knew BA would deal with the guys by the van. He watched as the two men moved cautiously through the grass and boulders, making slow but steady progress toward the van. They didn't act as if they had seen any of the team members yet. Which was good. Obviously, they expected a trap, but until the firing started, the team had the advantage. He wondered if they were arrogant enough to think they hadn't been spotted yet. Shaking his head, he carefully raised his rifle and aimed it in their general direction. He thought about getting things started himself, having a little fun before getting down to business, but then remembered Murdock and Face. Those were the guys he had to take his cue from. He sighed, glancing over in their direction. Damn it, why didn't Face do something?  
  
Then the damn dog started barking. It was muffled, but loud enough. Would these guys actually think they'd left the dog behind? He had no time to think about it.  
  
A shot rang out from BA's direction, and Hannibal was startled to see a body rolling like a rag doll down the hill between them.  
  
Shit!  
  
He turned and sent several rounds at his guys before looking over at Murdock. He saw him turning around, just in time to point his weapon at his attackers. No sign of Face. Hannibal had to duck then, bullets ricocheting off the rocks around him.  
  
Shit.  
  
He started firing furiously at the two men now racing toward his position.  
  
*****  
  
He'd told Hannibal he could protect Face, and he would. He'd told him he could watch their backs, and he would. He just didn't want to have to. Reluctant he may have been over the years, going into the fray against assorted bad guys, but it was nothing compared to the way he was feeling now. Given his druthers, he'd just as soon be heading back to the VA. No, he'd just as soon be at the VA.  
  
He sighed. He hated feeling this way. He thought, after Hannibal knew how he really felt about going on jobs with the team, it might be easier. But it wasn't. He felt like he'd let Hannibal down. That he should've been able to handle things better. Now he wondered if he'd really be able to stay with the team after all. If Hannibal would still break him out now and then, just to do...what? Was there anything they could really do together, if not missions? But if he didn't stick with the team, who'd look out for Face?  
  
Murdock's muscles were starting to protest in earnest now. He'd been laying on his stomach, rifle ready, watching the van, for way too long. He tensed now, finger worrying the trigger, as he watched two pair of feet moving along the far side of the van. He couldn't see too much except that, but he wasn't worried yet. He knew Hannibal and BA had a full view of the area, and Face was watching their backs from his position. As long as no one tried to sneak up behind them, Murdock may not even have to fire. Which, for some reason, was very comforting just now.  
  
He shifted slightly, trying to ignore his back. Man just was not meant to lay on his stomach and elbows. Not for this long. He should've found a better position to begin with, but he never thought it would be this...  
  
Petey was barking. The feet behind the van stopped abruptly. Murdock turned slightly to alert Face.  
  
Oh, no...  
  
Face was sitting there, mouth slightly open, white as a damn ghost. Hand on the Colt, but not moving a muscle.  
  
A shot rang out. Murdock didn't look. He was too busy squirming around to face whatever it was had Face scared shitless.  
  
Dammit to hell!  
  
He raised his rifle, instinctively firing at the man standing there, rifle raised, aimed right at him. He barely had time to register the man falling when he saw the second one. He wanted to cry in frustration.  
  
The end of the rifle barrel was up against Face's head. And the man holding it was grinning like a fucking Cheshire cat...


	45. Chapter 45

These guys were good, damn good. Hannibal had managed to wound one guy, more by accident than anything. The other one was more elusive, dodging here and there, firing on the run, much too accurately for Hannibal's taste. He could feel something running down his face, and knew from the stinging that he'd caught some of the shrapnel from the rocks around him. He glanced down, toward Murdock's position. Saw him take one guy out, and then freeze.  
  
He fired another quick round at his own targets, forcing them to take cover. Swiveling, he looked down the barrel and saw a man standing where Face had been, gun pointed down, big grin on his face. Hannibal's jaw tensed, and he sighted carefully, ignoring the bullets once again ricocheting around him. He didn't want to hit Murdock or Face, but he had to at least give Murdock an opening. He fired off two quick shots, and saw the man jump back before swinging back and resuming his own battle.  
  
The man he'd hit was moving slowly through the grass, and Hannibal kept a close eye on him. If he raised his weapon, Hannibal would take him out. In the meantime, he concentrated on the other one, who was becoming more and more aggressive. Either he was gaining confidence, or getting desperate. Hannibal could work either to his advantage.  
  
"Come to Papa, you son of a bitch."  
  
*****  
  
BA had his two men pinned down between the van and the jeep. He was glad they hadn't parked closer to the van; the gap was large enough so he could keep them between the two, never allowing them to move close enough to either vehicle to get behind them. It didn't seem to faze them though. They kept low, pressing into the shallow ditch beside the road, alternately firing and ducking. BA was just trying to keep them too busy to turn on Murdock. They'd have a clear shot at him if he didn't.  
  
He glanced over to Hannibal's position. Caught a glimpse of the blood, wondering how bad it was. The colonel seemed to ignore it, so it couldn't be too bad. Probably about like his own, dozens of cuts and grazes from ricochets. A bullet whizzed by his head, and BA brought his focus back on the guys below him, letting them know who was boss.  
  
He did a quick check of his ammo belt. Sighed, and settled his rifle more securely.  
  
"Okay, suckers, we gotta finish this..."  
  
*****  
  
Murdock hadn't dropped his rifle, just lowered it. He slumped a little, taking an attitude of defeat, but kept his finger on the trigger. He didn't dare look at Face, kept his eyes on the man in front of him. Watched his eyes, waiting for that little flicker, watching for his chance...  
  
And then the ground in front of the guy exploded and they both jumped, Murdock automatically swinging his rifle up, finger squeezing, several rounds slamming into the body in front of him, the man jerking with each one, dropping like a rock, finally, when Murdock relaxed his hand, finally, and for a few short seconds, there was no sound, no movement, no air, no gravity.  
  
Murdock jerked back to reality, scurrying over to make sure the guy stayed down. Not thinking at all as he checked the pulse. The pulse that wasn't there. A quick glance at Face, making sure he hadn't been hit. Noting, then ignoring, the look on his face. Turning quickly away, seeing the two men between the vehicles, firing up at BA's position. Scrambling over the hot sand, angling his way to a better vantage point, hoping they were too intent on killing BA to notice his approach.  
  
Praying these guys would surrender.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal shook his hand, swearing under his breath. That last shot had been way too close. That guy was way too close. The other one hadn't moved for a long time; Hannibal had a pretty good idea why. He didn't like it, but he knew damn well what would happen if they got their hands on Face and no way in hell he was going to let that happen.  
  
Unfortunately, he was running low on ammo and the second man seemed to live a very charmed life. He couldn't get a bead on the bastard no matter how hard he tried, and now he had a stone chip buried in his firing hand. Damn! That hurt. Didn't help his aim any, either.  
  
Frustrated, and knowing he was running out of time, he looked down to Murdock's area. No Murdock. He quelled the split-second of panic. He couldn't afford that now. He looked over at BA's position. He could see the rifle, pointing down at the Jeep, firing almost sporadically. Great. BA must be getting low, too.  
  
Wishing for the thousandth time he could take time to light a cigar, he turned back to his nemesis. Closer again. Dammit! He aimed carefully, trying to anticipate the son of a bitch's next move, painfully tightening his finger on the trigger.  
  
What he wouldn't give to have Face next to him right now...  
  
*****  
  
BA fired more carefully, shooting to contain them only when absolutely necessary. He was waiting for his chance, hating the idea, but prepared nevertheless. Every time one of them showed their head above the top of the ditch, he aimed and fired. So far, they had been lucky enough and fast enough to fire and duck before he could get a clean shot.  
  
He could hear Hannibal firing rapidly, and then suddenly it stopped. He'd heard some shots from Murdock, too, a few minutes before, but nothing since. He was about ready to make a run for Hannibal when the shooting started up again. He didn't know if he should be relieved or not. He didn't know if Hannibal was in real trouble or just reloading.  
  
He didn't know a damn thing. Nobody had time to use their radios. Nobody had time to do anything except watch their heads and pull the trigger.  
  
One of the men had reached up to fire again, and BA once again took aim. But instead of firing and ducking, the man just stayed there, half out of the ditch, rifle silent. BA waited. What the hell?  
  
And then the rifle was shoved up onto the lane, and a moment later the other man's rifle followed. And then BA saw a sight he never thought he'd be so happy to see.  
  
Murdock stepped out from behind the van, covering the men with his rifle. BA saw him glance up in his direction and then nod toward Hannibal. BA nodded back and crawled out from the rocks, hurrying as much as possible over the rough terrain to take a position parallel and above the colonel.  
  
About damn time...  
  
*****  
  
It puzzled Hannibal at first. He knew he wasn't firing that fast, but the number of bullets flying toward the man below seemed extraordinary. It wasn't until he stopped to flex his hand, and the bullets kept coming, that he realized he had help. He looked around quickly, caught BA looking back at him from higher up, and he grinned.  
  
Take that, scuzzball!  
  
It didn't take the guy long to realize he was now outnumbered and outgunned. He stopped shooting, and tossed his gun far to his side. Slowly, he stood, hands held high in the air, head down in defeat.  
  
For a few seconds, Hannibal sat, breathing hard, eyes closed, heart racing. He hadn't felt this way for a long time. A long time. These guys had meant business, all right. Then he grinned.  
  
Well, so had he.  
  
He stood, waiting until BA had gotten down the hill and taken control of the prisoner. Then he headed for the van. His grin got even wider when he saw Murdock standing over the remaining two men, who were now tightly bound beside the van.  
  
"Great job, Captain!"  
  
Murdock looked at him, almost surly. "Sure, Colonel, sure. How many notches do we add this time? Three? Four?"  
  
Hannibal immediately sobered. "You know it was necessary, Murdock. If they'd gotten hold of Face..."  
  
BA came up behind Hannibal, shoving his prisoner over to the Jeep with his comrades. "Yeah, man, these guys woulda..."  
  
"Would have what, Sergeant? Made him pay for his interference?"  
  
The three men jerked around to the new voice. Shocked, they watched as a man dressed in jeans and tan shirt, dusty and dirty, stood almost exactly where Murdock's second thug had stood. He held a pistol casually in his hand, pointing down toward Face. He wore a grim smile.  
  
"Well, well. Seems we have a bit of a dilemma here."  
  
"Not really." Hannibal raised his rifle slightly, as did BA and Murdock. "Three against one, doesn't seem much of a dilemma to me, dirtbag. So why don't you put the gun down, nice and easy?"  
  
"Oh, I'm afraid my employers wouldn't take very kindly to that, Colonel Smith. They want Mr. Mordake here very badly. He's caused them no end of trouble and embarrassment, not to mention the international repercussions. I'm afraid they feel he needs to be taught a lesson. Or rather, they need him to teach others."  
  
"The old object lesson, huh? Well, I'm afraid our friend is going to be staying with us. And you fellas are going to be talking with some government types of our own."  
  
Still smiling, the man cocked the pistol. "What is it you Americans call this? A 'Mexican standstill'?"  
  
"Standoff, dirtbag. And we've still got you outnumbered." Hannibal stepped back, and pointed his rifle at one of the trussed up men. "Our three to your one."  
  
"They're not my three, Smith. They knew the risks, and accepted them. Now, unless you want another body to bury, I suggest you move away from the Jeep." Still keeping his eye on the three men, he reached down and grabbed Face's arm, jerking hard.  
  
Hannibal stepped forward, bringing his rifle back to bear. He felt, rather than saw, BA and Murdock step up with him.  
  
"You're not taking him anywhere."  
  
"Let me put it this way, Colonel. This pistol is going to stay on Mr. Mordake. I will give you to the count of five. If you haven't put down your weapons by then, and moved away from my Jeep, I will pull the trigger. You will then have another count of five. This pistol holds eight rounds. That's, let's see, two per limb, isn't it?"  
  
"And what if we just fill you with some holes?"  
  
"Then I'm afraid Mr. Mordake would go right along with me on that journey. One..."  
  
"You wouldn't...what would your employers say about that?"  
  
"I think it would suit their purpose. And I think my friends there would add enough embellishments to make it quite satisfactory to them. Two..."  
  
Hannibal glanced at BA and Murdock. Both still held their weapons up, pointing at Face's captor. They were watching him like hawks. Hannibal looked back, and then down at Face.  
  
"Three..."  
  
Hannibal snapped his eyes back up at the man.  
  
"Don't do it, mister."  
  
"Four..."  
  
"I'm telling you, guy, don't..."  
  
"Five..."  
  
The shot echoed across the meadow..


	46. Chapter 46

He'd failed them. In the worst possible way. He'd watched as the two men had crept up on Murdock, and hadn't said a word in warning. And because of it, the team had been taken by surprise, put in jeopardy. Men had died. That hadn't happened since Nam. It shouldn't have happened now. It wouldn't have, if he hadn't been such a coward.  
  
As Murdock stepped over to check the second body, Face tried to say something, anything, to explain. To apologize. But Murdock had just looked at him, and the disgust and anger in his eyes stopped Face cold. He watched silently as Murdock hurried away from him, going toward the gunfire.  
  
He could've taken it from Hannibal. He already knew how the colonel felt about him. And BA. Despite his words earlier, he knew how BA felt about cowards. But Murdock...that was different. So many times, Face had been sure Murdock had seen through him, and still he stayed. But now...  
  
Even Murdock couldn't forgive this.  
  
He should never have come with them. Never. He was happy back there in the desert. As happy as he needed to be. He wanted to be there now.  
  
The shooting had slowed. He looked up, trying to see Murdock. Instead, he saw another man, walking up, calmly, as if there were no one else around. Face looked quickly, panicky. There was no one else around. Murdock was over by the van, gun pointed at something, someone. Not paying any attention. He had no idea where BA was, or Hannibal.  
  
There was no one. Just him.  
  
The man continued to walk toward him, smiling. As he got closer, he put a finger to his lips. He held a pistol in his hand, lightly, casually. He stepped closer, looking over toward Murdock. Face let his hand tighten on the Colt, slowly drawing it closer to him, hoping the man wouldn't see it. The man looked back at him, still smiling. Knelt down, only a foot away.  
  
"So, you're Mr. Mordake." Voice soft, speculative. "Not much to look at, are you? Well, wait, my friend. When my employers are finished with you..." He chuckled, still softly. He looked up again toward Murdock, frowning slightly. "Well, looks like your friends were better than I thought. Not that it matters." He looked back at Face, who was sweating profusely. "Are you scared, Mr. Mordake? You should be. You shouldn't have interfered. Now, if you will excuse me..."  
  
The man stood, again looking toward Murdock, keeping the pistol aimed at Face.  
  
Face kept staring at that pistol. Heard the man talking, other voices, Hannibal's, off in the distance. Everything sounded like it was in a tunnel.  
  
He's not going to kill you. Not yet.  
  
Face shuddered.  
  
He's going to hurt you.  
  
He felt his arm grabbed, felt the man trying to pull him up.  
  
You have to stop him.  
  
I can't...  
  
You have the gun. Use it.  
  
Face felt the Colt, lying hidden just under his hip.  
  
Use it.  
  
The man's voice moved out of the tunnel.  
  
"Three..."  
  
Counting? Why?  
  
"Don't do it, mister."  
  
Hannibal...  
  
Use the gun.  
  
His hand tightened on it. He drew it out. His hand was shaking.  
  
"Four..."  
  
Use it.  
  
"I'm telling you, guy, don't..."  
  
Use it.  
  
"Five..."  
  
NOW!  
  
Almost unaware of his actions, Face drew the gun up and pulled the trigger, felt it jerk in his hand, heard the report pounding through his head...  
  
*****  
  
BA wasn't even aware he was pulling the trigger. He heard the bastard say "five" and the sound of a gunshot and then suddenly there was gunfire all around him. And then deathly silence.  
  
The man who had seemed so confident, so sure of himself, was laying on the ground, blood coming from everywhere. BA looked to his side, and saw both Hannibal and Murdock, staring at the man, breathing hard. And then he looked at Face.  
  
Face, trying to crawl away from the body that lay next to him, holding his Colt, finger still on the trigger. He was gasping for air as he struggled to get away.  
  
BA dropped his rifle and stepped toward him. Immediately the revolver came up, and BA heard the unmistakable sound of the hammer being pulled back.  
  
"Hold it, BA!" Hannibal spoke sharply, and the revolver turned toward the voice. Hannibal immediately softened his tone. "Face, put the gun down, kid. It's all over now."  
  
The gun never wavered. Face pushed himself back a little further.  
  
"Hannibal, let me try." Murdock slowly put his rifle down on the ground.  
  
"You sure, Murdock?"  
  
"Yeah. I think I am." Murdock swallowed, and put on a smile, one he hoped was reassuring. He took a very small step forward, and looked at the gun now pointed at him.  
  
"Face? Put the gun down, Face. Nobody's going to shoot anybody else now, okay? Everything's cool now."  
  
Face was focusing on him, but he didn't put the gun down.  
  
"Face, c'mon, muchacho. You don't have to shoot anybody now. It's all over. It's done."  
  
Face looked at him, and Murdock felt a shiver run through him. There was something...otherworldly... about that look.  
  
"Face?"  
  
"No. It's not over yet." His voice was low, almost sad.  
  
"Sure it is, Face." He moved a little closer as the gun came down. Carefully, he knelt down in front of Face, still maintaining a distance he figured Face would find safe. "We can put all the guns away now. We don't need them any more."  
  
Face looked away, pulling the gun closer to him, but pointing it away from Murdock. "I do."  
  
Alarm bells rang loud in Murdock's head. No, oh, no, you don't. "Face, you don't need a gun now. Put it down. Put it down, now."  
  
He could sense Hannibal and BA moving ever so slowly forward. He hadn't imagined it, then.  
  
"Face..."  
  
"No, Murdock, please. I'm sorry. I can't..."  
  
"Face, there's nothing to be sorry for."  
  
"I didn't warn you. You could've been killed, and it would've been my fault. I...I froze, Murdock."  
  
"That doesn't matter, Face. That wasn't your fault."  
  
"This is all my fault. All of it. All I do is make trouble." Face pulled himself up further, bringing the gun up into his lap, finger tightening on the trigger. Murdock held his breath. "Look at you guys, Murdock. It's all falling apart. Because of me. Because of this." Face brought the gun up, pointing directly at his face. He held it there. "I'm tearing everyone apart."  
  
"No, Face. No. Never." Hannibal moved in closer now, kneeling down so close it made Murdock edgy. But Face didn't seem to notice. "Face, if anything, you're the reason we're together at all."  
  
Face looked at Hannibal, clearly not believing him, but the gun did move down, a little, and Hannibal pressed his advantage.  
  
"Face, I swear to you. After we thought you were dead, everything did fall apart. Everything. This was the first job we took on, after. But it wasn't until we knew who you were that we really started working together again." Hannibal looked over at Murdock and BA, and they nodded quickly. Now was not the time for the complete truth.  
  
The gun came down some more. Now it rested on his chest, but his finger was still too close to the trigger. "But...I...you've seen what I am now. I've proved it, Hannibal."  
  
"Proved what, kid?"  
  
"That I'm not the man you took on, Colonel. I'm nowhere near that man. I'm just, just a coward. Selfish and childish, just like you said I was."  
  
Hannibal closed his eyes. Damn. If he could turn back time...  
  
"Face, I didn't mean that. I was angry, frustrated. I wanted you back with us so badly, and I couldn't understand why you didn't want that, too."  
  
"But don't you see, Hannibal? This is why! Because I knew I couldn't do this any more. I can't even..." He stared at the body of the last fallen man before looking bleakly back at Hannibal. "I lost Peck! I lost Face!" He waved the Colt in the air, and laughed, and there was a note of hysteria in that laugh. "I lost... everything. Because it was all fake, Hannibal. I was all fake. Made up. A cardboard cutout. I had to leave, before you saw that. Before you realized I was nothing." The gun moved up once more, the barrel now resting under his chin. "But now you know. There's nothing left to hide from. There's nothing left..."  
  
BA moved closer now, drawing Face's attention away from Hannibal.  
  
"Face, listen to me, man. Maybe you ain't Face no more, but that don't matter. I tol you that before. I don't care who you want to be now, you're still my friend, and I'm proud that you are. Understand me? I'm proud of that!"  
  
The gun came down once more, and this time Hannibal was ready for it. With Face's attention firmly on BA, Hannibal reached over and pulled the gun from his hand. Face made a half-hearted grab for it before he slumped down on his side, burying his head in his arms. Murdock was next to him immediately, pulling him in close.  
  
Hannibal and BA stood up and stared at each other. Then, slowly, they picked up their weapons, and began the grisly task of gathering up the bodies.


	47. Chapter 47

Murdock knelt over Face, gently pulling him up to lean against him, holding on when Face tried to pull away, speaking softly but firmly.  
  
"No, you don't, muchacho. You've been pulling away long enough. I'm not letting you go this time, so just relax."  
  
Face remained tense even as he gave up the struggle, letting himself rest against Murdock's chest.  
  
"I'm sorry, Murdock. So sorry..."  
  
"Hey, there's nothing to be sorry for. I told you that. If anything, it's my fault for not watching the back door."  
  
"But..."  
  
"No 'buts', Face." Murdock gave him a little shake. "Over and done with. Okay? For all of us. We're starting fresh."  
  
Face didn't respond, and Murdock noticed, unhappily, that he didn't relax one bit.  
  
"Murdock?"  
  
"Yeah, Face?"  
  
"Would you please not call me that?"  
  
Murdock looked down at him, frowning. "Uh, okay. But what do I call you?"  
  
Face was silent for several minutes, and Murdock was about to ask again when he finally answered in a low voice. "Ed. Edward Mordake. That's who I am now." He looked over at the body still waiting for Hannibal and BA, and Murdock felt him shudder, very slightly. "Whoever the hell he is."  
  
*****  
  
BA stopped suddenly and Hannibal looked up, frowning.  
  
"C'mon, BA, I want to get out of here before the wrong people show up."  
  
"Hannibal, did you look at this guy? Close, I mean?" He spoke softly, glancing over at Face and Murdock.  
  
"What about him, BA?"  
  
"I figured we got him, right? I mean, all that shooting..."  
  
"Yeah, BA. Kinda hard to miss him at that range."  
  
"Yeah, but look, Hannibal. At his head."  
  
Hannibal leaned over and looked with distaste at the man's head. And looked again. There was no mistake. A neat round bullet hole was just under the man's ear, and an exit wound, not nearly as neat, just above the left temple. No way that bullet had come from any of their rifles. No way it had come from the team's direction. And no way he would have survived it. Hannibal leaned back, shaking his head.  
  
BA looked again over at Face and Murdock. "You gonna tell him?"  
  
"What would I tell him, BA? That, despite everything, his lethal instincts are still intact? That he doesn't have to worry about being a 'nothing' any more, he can have his claim to fame as a killer? No way."  
  
"What if he already knows he did it?"  
  
"Then we lie through our teeth. We make sure he thinks he missed the guy by a mile. Period." Hannibal looked down at the body. "I don't know what the team's future is, BA, or if Face will even be with us - but I know one thing for damn sure. Wherever he ends up, the kid's going there with his hands clean."  
  
BA nodded and turned his attention back to the body. Despite his task, he smiled quietly to himself.  
  
*****  
  
The dead had been placed behind the jeep and covered with a tarp. The three survivors had been tied securely to the front of the jeep. Face was once again lying down in the van, with Petey clutched firmly by his side and Murdock sitting as close as his seat would allow. BA started the van, and looked over at Hannibal, waiting. Hannibal looked out at the battlefield for a moment, finalizing his plans.  
  
"Okay, BA, head north, but steer clear of Alturas. We'd stick out like a sore thumb and I want us invisible for a while."  
  
"What about those guys?"  
  
"I'll call the FBI after we've put some distance between us. Let those guys enjoy the desert heat for a bit."  
  
BA did a small double-take at the venom in Hannibal's voice, but wisely decided to say nothing. He pulled the van out onto the road and headed north.  
  
Other than Hannibal's call to the FBI, the van was silent for the next couple of hours. Hannibal's mention of Sinon had been met with a hail of questions from the agent about Edward Mordake's whereabouts, his safety, his willingness to come forward. All of which Hannibal ignored. Once he was sure the agent knew exactly where the prisoners were, he hung up without another word. He didn't like the idea that the FBI was still looking for Face...Ed...whoever. He thought Charlie had taken care of that. No, he didn't like it. Not one damn bit.  
  
When they passed a small motel, Hannibal made BA turn around. He knew everyone was worn out. They needed a safe haven for a few hours, a good night's sleep, some decent food. The basics. Nothing more complicated than that.  
  
Unhappily, they had to take two rooms. Hannibal wanted the team together tonight. Then again, it might work out for the best. He would have Murdock room with BA. He realized Murdock wanted to be with Face, but he somehow knew that Face needed Hannibal right now. Murdock and BA were important to Face, but, vanity aside, Hannibal knew he was...more than that. He was Face's CO, father figure, mentor, friend...and Face thought he'd lost all of that.  
  
Hannibal had to prove him wrong. Soon.  
  
*****  
  
Face wasn't sure about the arrangements for the motel rooms, but it was out of his hands. Everything was out of his control now. It was up to Hannibal. He reached down and rubbed Petey, pressed up against his knee. He wasn't sure how long Hannibal would put up with the dog. He supposed he should feel grateful they hadn't just dropped both of them off somewhere along the way.  
  
He looked with longing at the bed, a few feet from the uncomfortable overstuffed chair he sat in. He'd been able to get to the van with a lot of help, but after the long ride coupled with the ordeal in the desert, he'd barely been able to move. The muscles in his thigh were in almost constant spasms. He wished Hannibal would come back so he could get into bed and try to relax. They were supposedly unloading the van, but Face knew that was really just an excuse for the three of them to have a hurried discussion about him. He wondered if Murdock would tell them about the name. He hoped so. He really didn't want to explain it again. Not when he was so full of doubts, himself.  
  
That was so odd, the way he'd hesitated. He'd been Edward Mordake for so long now, it had sounded strange to be called Face again. It really had been like they were talking to someone else. And yet, telling Murdock to call him Ed...it was like he was taking that final step away from them. Away from that life. Away from that lie.  
  
And suddenly he hadn't been sure he wanted to take that step. Suddenly, when he knew he'd lost them for good, when the thing he had feared most had happened and there was no going back - suddenly he realized that he had never really given up that hope. He thought he'd started a new life, really become a new person. Someone who might be accepted without expectations, without pressures, without performing. And he thought that was what he wanted.  
  
But now, being around them, watching them, working with them...no. No, he couldn't go back. Not now. Not only did they know what he was. He knew. He'd proved it, once and for all. No way they could want him back, no way he could ever go back.  
  
After all these years, after all the lies, the pretending, the faking, he was still Alvin Brenner. And Alvin Brenner had always been, and always would be, a washout.  
  
Even his parents had known that...  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal stepped into the room quietly. The discussion outside had taken longer than he'd anticipated. He hadn't liked what Murdock had to say, but for now they would go along with Face's request. No, Ed's request. It was like swallowing bile, but he'd do it.  
  
He looked over at the chair where Face sat, and frowned. He couldn't tell if Face was asleep or passed out. After everything that had happened today - God, was it only one day? - either wouldn't have surprised him. He stepped over, surprised that, for once, the dog only growled. Gently, he reached over and checked Face's pulse. A little fast, but not bad. Face slowly stirred and looked blearily around him. As soon as he saw Hannibal, his head went down.  
  
"Hey, kid." Hannibal knelt down so he could look directly at him. "Feeling okay?"  
  
"Yeah, just tired, Colonel." He tried to sit up straighter and he couldn't help a quick grimace as the muscle spasms kicked in.  
  
"Yeah, just tired." Hannibal stood and held out his hand. "C'mon, kid, let's take a look at the leg."  
  
"Colonel, I'm fine...," Face started to protest. He really just wanted to lay down and get some sleep. But he also felt suddenly uncomfortable with the close attention. Which was ridiculous.  
  
"No arguments, Fa...Ed."  
  
Face felt himself redden. "I know you think it's stupid, Colonel, but..."  
  
"No, I don't think it's stupid. C'mon." This time Face took Hannibal's offered assistance and settled on the bed. In a few minutes, he was down to his shorts, and Hannibal was carefully removing the dressing. The skin was puckered and warm to the touch, but he couldn't see any serious problem. "You probably just overdid it. You take it easy for a couple of days and it should be fine again."  
  
Face nodded, and stifled a yawn. Just laying on top of the covers felt so good...He heard Hannibal chuckle. The next thing he knew he was under the covers, and Hannibal was sitting in the overstuffed chair, reading a paper.  
  
He watched him for several minutes before Hannibal noticed. He looked up, a question on his face.  
  
"Thanks, Hannibal." He looked away, fumbled with the covers. "I'm sorry. For everything..."  
  
Hannibal folded the paper and came over to the bed. "I don't know how many times we have to tell you this, but there's nothing to be sorry for. We're done with that now."  
  
Face sighed, closed his eye. It took some time before he dared ask it. "So, what comes next?"  
  
Hannibal sighed. "Well, that's kind of a big question, so maybe we'll just take one step at a time. We still have an appointment with Dr. Bursey tomorrow. I'm not going to try and bargain with you on that. If you want to go, we'll go. If you don't, we won't. Simple as that."  
  
"You think I should."  
  
"Yes, I do. I won't bullshit you. You and I both know he can't work miracles. But, if he can help at all, I think it's worth it. For no other reason than it might make you feel better about yourself."  
  
Face just shook his head and sighed. "You don't understand, Hannibal."  
  
"Maybe I do, at least a little. I've been doing a lot of thinking today. Something maybe I should've done a lot earlier." He smiled ruefully. "Look, would you be willing to do this much? Go see Bursey, see what he has to say. That's it. The rest is up to you. Completely."  
  
Face had to think for some time about it. Part of him was screaming to go back to the village, back to his trailer, where it was safe and comfortable and where he had almost been able to put the team behind him.  
  
The other part wanted to do whatever Hannibal asked.  
  
Just like always.  
  
He took a deep breath. He was so tired. Too tired.  
  
"Okay, Hannibal. I'll go see Bursey."


	48. Chapter 48

Hannibal had wanted the team to relax, unwind, get a good night's sleep. He sighed, hoping BA and Murdock were getting one, because he sure as hell wasn't. For the last hour or more, he'd been listening to Face toss and turn in the other bed, mumbling occasionally, but mainly just in almost constant, restless motion. Hannibal found it strange that such a quiet disturbance could completely disrupt his sleep. Finally, when the tossing became thrashing, he got up and stepped over to the other bed.  
  
"Hey, kid, you okay?" He was still finding it hard to call him Ed.  
  
The movements stopped abruptly, but there was no response. Hannibal reached over and turned on the lamp. He was totally unprepared for the sight.  
  
Face was lying flat on his back, sheets and blanket tangled around him, looking straight at Hannibal, both eyes wide open. Hannibal hadn't even considered that Face wouldn't wear the eye patch at night. He couldn't help the sharp intake of breath. It was a gut reaction. Face immediately snapped his eyes closed and rolled over to his side, away from Hannibal.  
  
"What do you want, Colonel?"  
  
Hannibal tried to act like nothing had happened, but he knew he'd just made another big mistake. "You were pretty restless, kid. Can't sleep?"  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
Hannibal sighed. He was pretty sure neither of them would be getting any more sleep that night. He stood, grabbing his jacket and rustling through it for a cigar. He thought for a moment and took out a second one.  
  
Peace offering.  
  
He sat on the edge of Face's bed, lit up. Waited for a moment until finally Face sat up, still facing the wall.  
  
"Something you wanted, Colonel?" His voice was tired. No. Resigned.  
  
"Yeah. Have a cigar." When Face hesitated, Hannibal casually reached over and gently tossed the eye patch over to him. He studied his cigar until Face had it in place, then held the other cigar out. Again, Face hesitated, then reluctantly took it along with the proffered lighter. In a moment, he'd shuffled back to lean against the head of the bed, and contemplated Hannibal through the smoke.  
  
"So?"  
  
"Well, I figured since neither one of us could sleep, we could talk."  
  
"About what?"  
  
"Well, what was keeping you awake, for starters."  
  
Face made a dismissive noise. "Nothing. Just thinking about tomorrow. That doctor."  
  
"Having second thoughts?"  
  
"Maybe." Face sighed, looking for somewhere to dump his ashes. Hannibal handed him an ashtray from the table, and he set it between them. "I just...I can't help thinking there's no point to it. Not any more."  
  
"Because we've seen the real you? So nothing matters now?"  
  
Face looked away.  
  
"Face....Ed, how many years have we been together? We know you inside and out, kid. And there's nothing about you that we can't accept. No matter what you look like, no matter what you want to call yourself. We accept you for you."  
  
"How can you, when I can't even do that? You don't know me, Hannibal! Because I never let you. I was whatever you wanted me to be, whatever the team needed me to be. That's where I took my cue. That's how I knew who to be. That's who you know. Not me."  
  
Hannibal didn't say anything, but it was obvious he was skeptical. Face was determined to make his point, to make Hannibal understand.  
  
"Why did you pick me to be on team, Hannibal?"  
  
"We needed a supply officer, and you had a rep for getting anything and everything."  
  
"When did you first hear about me and my 'rep'?"  
  
Hannibal sat back a little, thinking. "A while after I put in the requisition for a supply officer. I don't know precisely. "  
  
"I know precisely. Six weeks and two days after you put in the req, Colonel. Because I'm the one who put my file on your desk. Because that's how long it took to build up my contacts and make use of them. That's how long it took to make sure that so-called rep got around camp. Before that, I was just another green lieutenant that you wouldn't have looked at twice."  
  
Hannibal chuckled. "Well, so I got conned. You were what I was looking for, so what did it matter?"  
  
"I was exactly what you were looking for, Colonel. Exactly. Someone who could get whatever the team needed, whenever it was needed. That's what you wanted, that's what I became. You don't know me any better now than you did back then. Because I'm just a figment of your imagination. What you want to see. What you need. What the team needs. Only I'm not even that any more."  
  
Hannibal stared at Face. He wasn't making any sense. It wasn't possible that someone could just...invent themselves, just like that. Then again, isn't that exactly what Face had done each and every time he had to run a scam for the team? Or every time he needed a new place to live? Found a new girlfriend? Hell, every time he got bored. But those were just temporary. They didn't last. He couldn't do that day after day. No way...  
  
Hannibal turned away, watching the motel sign through the curtains of the window. But wasn't that the way Face lived, after all? His whole existence was one scam after another. One character after another. Whatever he needed, he became the person who could get it. Became what the mark wanted him to be. Became whoever he needed to be.  
  
Hannibal looked back at Face, who, very calmly, very quietly, very sadly, was watching him.  
  
Was there ever a time when Face was actually Face?  
  
Whoever the hell that was.  
  
He turned away, frowning. He heard Face speak softly behind him.  
  
"Now you understand, Hannibal."  
  
*****  
  
BA and Murdock were standing by the van, both nervously watching the highway. It was not quite daylight, but they were anxious to be on the road. They were still too close to the battlefield to be complacent.  
  
The door to the second room opened, and Petey bounded out, running to Murdock. Then Face stepped out, leaning heavily on the door itself. He took a small step outside, his left leg not quite holding his weight. For a split second it looked like he was going down, until an arm shot out and grabbed him.  
  
"Damn it, Ed, I said wait for me!" Hannibal stepped out, pulling the door closed with his other hand. Shaking his head, he helped Face over to the van and without further comment, the four men climbed aboard. The van pulled out onto the highway, headed for Redding.  
  
Other than a quick take out breakfast, they drove straight through, arriving about an hour before Face's appointment. BA circled the block, looking for anything and anyone that appeared out of place for the neighborhood. He parked on a side street, with a clear view of the front door.  
  
"Okay, Murdock, check it out." Hannibal lit a cigar, watching the building.  
  
Murdock slipped out of the van and walked casually across the street. A sign was beside the door, noticeable from the street, directing Dr. Bursey's patients around the corner. Ignoring it for the time being, he stepped inside and glanced around the lobby. There was a receptionist's desk in the middle, with a wall of elevators behind it and several rows of chairs in front. It was empty at that time of the morning, except for the receptionist, sorting out papers behind the desk. Murdock strolled over.  
  
"Morning." He smiled pleasantly.  
  
"Good morning. May I help you?"  
  
"I have an appointment with Dr. Bursey this morning. Or rather, a friend of mine does. Just wanted to make sure we were in the right place."  
  
"Well, you're in the right building. Dr. Bursey's patients use the side door, around the corner. It's a private entrance. There is a sign..." She pointed toward the door.  
  
"Yeah, I saw that. I just thought maybe we could use this entrance.."  
  
"I'm sorry, we can't access his suite from here. He's not actually part of our clinic, you see..." The receptionist looked at her files, obviously wanting to get on with her own work.  
  
"Okay, thanks. That's all I needed. Toodle-oo." He grinned and walked out. He stepped quickly around the corner. That side of the building faced the parking lot. Another sign directed Murdock through a side door, which opened into a small alcove with a single elevator. In a moment, Murdock was on his way to the third floor.  
  
The lobby, if one could call it that, was more like a small living room. A large comfortable couch and two matching chairs, small fireplace, and a Victorian-style desk serving the receptionist. The young man behind it looked up, frowning slightly.  
  
"Can I help you, sir?"  
  
"A friend of mine has an appointment with Dr. Bursey this morning. I was just..."  
  
"Oh, the gentleman from Dr. Feist?"  
  
"Yeah. That's him."  
  
The receptionist looked at his watch. "You're a bit early, but Dr. Bursey won't have any other patients this morning. If you'd like to have him come up, Dr. Bursey will be here in about twenty minutes."  
  
"That would be great. Thanks."  
  
Murdock hurried back to the van.  
  
"Good set up, Hannibal. Only access is a door around to the side, open view from the parking lot. One elevator, straight up to the suite. Bursey's due in about twenty minutes, but no other patients are scheduled for this morning, so anyone else going in..."  
  
"Is all mine." BA smacked his fist into his palm and grinned.  
  
"The receptionist said we could go up and wait, if we wanted." Murdock looked over at Face, who looked like he was half asleep.  
  
"Sounds like a good idea." Hannibal thought about the parking lot, people coming in and out. The sooner they got Face upstairs, the easier it would be. "How about it, Ed? You ready?"  
  
Face looked up then, sighed heavily. "Sure, why not?"  
  
In a few moments, the van was parked with a good view of Bursey's door, and within easy reach should BA need to interrupt an unwanted visitor. Hannibal and Murdock walked on either side of Face, lending more than physical support. He hesitated a moment before getting on the elevator.  
  
"It's okay, Ed. We're with you all the way, buddy." Murdock squeezed his arm.  
  
The three men moved into the elevator, and Face took a deep breath as the doors slowly closed.


	49. Chapter 49

Charlie wandered down from his cabin, talking to his friends, answering still remaining questions, assuring them that it was, indeed, over and done with. He knew that without question. A few days after the FBI had received that phone call from Colonel Smith, and picked up men in the desert - living and dead - they had received another phone call, this one from local authorities. The last of Sinon's owners had been found, brutally murdered, out on the East coast.  
  
There would be no uranium coming from the village property.  
  
The FBI had been questioning everyone in the village, over and over, trying to find Edward Mordake. But only three people knew about Dr. Bursey, and they weren't talking. The FBI had the papers and Charlie as a witness, and as far as anyone living in the village was concerned, that was all they needed. Charlie had been whisked away to Washington to give his testimony, and unceremoniously returned three days later.  
  
He had declined any further assistance from the FBI, or any branch of the government.  
  
So he answered the questions asked, except for those pertaining to Ed. Those he couldn't answer, because he hadn't heard from him. Or Smith. Dr. Feist had inquired of his friend in Redding, and been told only that the patient had arrived for the initial appointment.  
  
Charlie went out to Ed's trailer every few days, ostensibly to keep an eye on things. He dusted, and swept, and kept it from falling into disrepair. Kept it ready.  
  
Just in case.  
  
He laughed at himself, too, when he would stop at the rock and call out, waiting for Ed to tell him it was okay to come in. Waiting for Petey to come bounding out and wrestle with him. He knew immediately, each time he went out there, that the trailer was just as empty as it had been the last time he was there, but he waited anyway.  
  
Just in case.  
  
He hadn't been out there for a few days now. He really should go out again, but he wasn't as eager to go any more. It just depressed him. In spite of all his little eccentricities, Ed had brought a sort of light to Charlie's life that had been missing for a long time.  
  
He missed Ed, very much.  
  
*****  
  
BA had watched the three of them walk in, watched them through the glass door, waiting for the elevator. Seen the hesitation. But they'd gone on up, just the same. And BA had heaved a deep sigh of relief.  
  
He didn't really expect any trouble. He knew no one was going to tell the FBI about Bursey. No way Charlie would, and he didn't think Feist would, either, after all he'd done to get them here. He dismissed Cal. No way that bird would go near the FBI.  
  
Well, not unless he found out about those guys yesterday. Then he might figure he was safer in jail than out on his own with the team on the loose. But that would be at least a day or more away. BA didn't think the FBI would be any too keen on letting the news out.  
  
He also ruled out more of Sinon's guys coming in. They might have had a backup crew, but that guy at the end, he was too confident. Too cocky. He wouldn't have had a backup crew. Any more than Hannibal would have.  
  
He shifted in his seat, and glanced over at the dog. Sitting in Hannibal's seat. Actually, standing on it, front feet up on the dash, eyes glued to the door where Face had disappeared. Hannibal wouldn't like that. BA wasn't all that crazy about it either. Damn dog was shedding. But he was Face's dog. BA could always vacuum out the van later.  
  
He looked around the parking lot. More cars moving in now. He sat up a little straighter. He's seen the doctor go in earlier, right on schedule. Shouldn't be anyone else going in Bursey's door. They wouldn't get far if they did.  
  
He looked over at the dog again. Squirming nervously, but he wouldn't take his eyes away from the door. BA understood how he felt. He'd rather be up there with the rest of them than down here. Didn't matter, though. This was his job. Making sure the rest of them were covered. Safe.  
  
He looked up at the building, noting where Bursey's office must be. The dog whined softly.  
  
Still watching Bursey's floor, BA reached over and idly rubbed the dog's ear.  
  
He knew exactly how he felt.  
  
*****  
  
The waiting room was hushed, every sound deadened by the thick carpet, the soft furniture. Even the wallpaper seemed to cushion them. The receptionist was busy filing papers, typing quietly. Hannibal wondered how they managed that. It was almost claustrophobic, it was so cocoon like. He looked at Face, out of the corner of his eye. He looked calm. But then, he was half asleep. Maybe it was a good thing he'd had such a restless night.  
  
Murdock, on the other hand, was nervously tapping his fingers on the arm of the couch, looking around the room. Hannibal noted he never looked at Face. He wondered why. Face glanced at Murdock's drumming fingers. Hannibal cleared his throat softly. Murdock quit drumming.  
  
Dr. Bursey had come in a few minutes ago, nodded and smiled warmly as he passed by them into his office. Now the phone purred, the receptionist listened for a second before hanging up, and then looked up at them.  
  
"Dr. Bursey will see you now." He smiled at Face.  
  
"Want us to go in with you, Ed?" Hannibal kept his voice low. Murdock looked at Face for the first time since coming into the office.  
  
"No, I'm fine."  
  
Hannibal and Murdock watched as Face limped toward the inner sanctum. The receptionist stood and gave him his arm to lean on. Face hesitated for a moment before taking it.  
  
Hannibal stared at the carpet. He wished he had a cigar.  
  
Murdock drummed softly on the arm of the couch.  
  
*****  
  
Nick watched Charlie coming down the hill. He waited for him to get closer before going out on his porch. It was true, he supposed, what the others were saying. Charlie's walk was a little slower, had a little less bounce to it. Hell, he walked like an old man.  
  
Nick knew, as he was sure everyone else did, what had changed Charlie. It wasn't hard to figure out. And it wasn't dealing with the FBI or all those other government types that Charlie hated so. That was just the icing on the cake.  
  
Nick shook his head. What was it about Ed that had affected Charlie so? Oh, he knew all about Charlie's son, but it was more than that. Charlie had seen something in Ed. Something that others seemed to sense, as well. Even Nick had felt it. That was the funny thing about Ed. Three people in the whole damn village had actually met him, and yet everybody was worrying about him, wondering when he was coming home. He guessed it was true.  
  
Ed really did belong to them.  
  
Charlie was almost at Nick's cabin now, and he stepped out to greet him. Charlie looked up at him and smiled, a tired, sad smile.  
  
Damn...  
  
*****  
  
It had taken some time. It had been painful, despite the care Bursey took. But the damage from the beating had been repaired, as much as it could be for now. Bursey had insisted they take care of that, first and foremost. Bursey had even checked the leg, treating it like all his patients walked in with bullet wounds.  
  
Face liked this man.  
  
Then had come the X-rays, the photographs, the measurements. Bursey had Face go back to the waiting room while he messed around with some fancy computer program. This was the part Face wasn't sure about.  
  
Bursey was going to show him what he would look like, when it was all done.  
  
He'd had a moment's soft panic, when he first went back out to Hannibal and Murdock. The look on both their faces when they'd seen the butterfly bandages. Must have taken them back a few months. Took him back, too, but no way he was going to admit it. He'd shown them all the weaknesses he was going to. So he gave them what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and they, in turn, covered their dismay and smiled reassuringly back.  
  
And then the three of them sat there, like rocks, waiting for Dr. Bursey.  
  
The second time Face was called back to the office, Hannibal had again offered to go with him, and this time, Face agreed. It obviously surprised but pleased the colonel. When Murdock stood to go with him, Face hesitated until Murdock smiled and wrapped his arm around Face's shoulder.  
  
"You and me, muchacho. You and me." Murdock almost whispered it.  
  
The three men sat on one side of a large desk, Dr. Bursey stood on the other. The moment Dr. Bursey opened his mouth, and Face heard those familiar words about the extent of the damage and the limits of plastic surgery, he pretty much knew what those pictures would look like. He steeled himself to see the "renderings", as Dr. Bursey put it. Heard the precautionary, "Now, these are really just rough sketches. In reality..." as the doctor started placing the computer pictures on the table in front of him. And he had to admit, there was an improvement.  
  
Instead of a monster, he now looked at a mere freak.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock kicked himself, mentally. He had warned himself over and over not to get his hopes up. He didn't want his own disappointment to show, didn't want to take a chance on messing up things for Face. He had to force himself to be upbeat, to ask questions in a tone that said, "That's great, Doc!". He had to.  
  
Because Face wasn't asking any questions.  
  
Bursey started explaining things, looking always at Face, waiting for some kind of reaction. The longer he got silence in return, the deeper his frown grew. Finally, after answering yet another of Murdock's questions, he looked at Face, concerned.  
  
"Do you have any questions at all?"  
  
Face had looked at the pictures again, and then said, very quietly, "No."  
  
"Well, shall we set up the appointments then?"  
  
"No."  
  
"No?" Murdock couldn't help it. He couldn't believe Face was doing this. Certainly he wasn't going to look the greatest, but anything was an improvement. Wasn't it?  
  
"No, Murdock." Face looked at Bursey, apologetically. "I'm sorry for wasting your time, Doctor. But there really isn't any point going any further. You know it as well as I do."  
  
"Granted, we can't do a lot, but..."  
  
"No. Thank you again, Doctor." Face stood up, shook the dazed doctor's hand, and limped out. Hannibal, who hadn't said one word either, silently rose and followed him.  
  
Dr. Bursey looked up at Murdock. "Please talk to him. These pictures really don't do justice..."  
  
"I will, doc. But don't count on him changing his mind."  
  
Murdock stood and was about to leave when he had a sudden thought. He turned back, gathered the pictures, and nodded goodbye.  
  
You never knew...  
  
*****  
  
"Still no word?"  
  
"No, nothing." Charlie sighed, settled more comfortably in the rocker on Nick's porch. People walked by, nodding hello. Charlie was once again hit by the feeling that this was a good place to live. A very good place. For everyone.  
  
"You don't suppose Smith is making him stay with them?"  
  
"I don't know, Nick. I wouldn't think so, but Smith can be a stubborn man. He can also be persuasive, I would think, especially where Ed's concerned. Well, who knows? Maybe he was right. Maybe the best place for Ed is with his team."  
  
"Ed? With that team of mercenaries? Are you out of your mind?" Nick's voice rose with surprise and anger. "No way, Charlie. Those guys'll chew him up and spit him out. And God only knows where they'll leave him when they do."  
  
"You don't really believe that, Nick. Smith wouldn't have kept him with them if they didn't care about him."  
  
"If he's still alive." Nick hated to bring up the possibility, but Charlie had to face it. The last word they had had on the team was the FBI's report of the gunfight. No one knew if any of the team had been hurt, because the survivors had refused to talk at all.  
  
Charlie turned and stared at Nick, incredulous. "Of course, he's still alive!"  
  
Nick looked back, sadness in his eyes. "Then why haven't they contacted you, Charlie? Where are they?"  
  
*****  
  
"It's not working, is it?"  
  
"I don't know, Murdock. He's trying, we're trying."  
  
"I think that might be the problem."  
  
Hannibal looked at Murdock, puzzled. "What? How could that be the problem?"  
  
Murdock took a deep breath. He'd been thinking about this for some time, and he thought he had it figured out.  
  
"The problem, Hannibal, is that now he's with us, he's started falling back into the old habit of trying to be what we want him to be. But we all want him to be who he really is, whoever that is. But he can't figure out who he is, because he hasn't been himself for who knows how long, and we're not giving him any clues as to who he should be. But he does think we're not happy with him being Ed, which is who he is now. He thinks we really want him to be Face, but he can't be Face any more. So then he thinks he's failing us again, and he tries to be somebody else that we would want. And that's not what we want. So it's not what he wants. So nobody's happy, and it's driving him nuts."  
  
Hannibal was looking at Murdock, glassy-eyed. "Murdock, let's just accept that what we've been doing isn't working, okay?"  
  
"Well, we know what he really wants, Hannibal."  
  
"I know, Murdock. I know. I just don't know if that's really the best thing for him."  
  
The two men sat for a long time, silent, uncomfortable. Murdock began lightly drumming his fingers on the kitchen table. Hannibal looked out the back door, where BA was working on the van. He'd found a new bumper and windshield, and was busy putting them in place.  
  
Hannibal couldn't see Face, but knew he was close. He never went far from any of them.  
  
Physically.  
  
Hannibal was well aware that Face wasn't happy. But he had thought he'd adjusted. He should've known better. The way Face had refused Bursey's help. And then had accepted, without any argument, Hannibal's announcement that they were going to stay together for a while, instead of taking him back to the village. As though, having made the choice not to have any surgery, he no longer cared where he was or who he was with. And, while Hannibal didn't necessarily think Face was going 'nuts', he had noticed that the longer Face was with the team, the more frequently those damn voices seemed to chime in. Not that he was answering them out loud any more. He'd just tilt his head, suddenly, and seemed to tune everything else out. Murdock would call him on it, when he was around, and Face would either get embarrassed or upset. Hannibal supposed that depended on what the voices were telling him. Unfortunately, the little openness about those conversations Face had had back in the van seemed to have disappeared. Embarrassed or upset, he would deny he was hearing voices, or anything else. If they caught him answering the voices, he claimed he was just talking to the dog.  
  
Hannibal looked over at Murdock, still drumming on the table, staring off into space. Hannibal was worried about Murdock, too. He seemed to be losing ground. His conversations were getting more and more convoluted, and he was more easily upset. Which was another reason Hannibal didn't think taking Face back to the village was a good idea. At least with Face here, Murdock's imagination wasn't going into overdrive. He could see exactly how Face was faring. On the other hand, Murdock was obsessed with trying to help develop this new persona, and that seemed to be putting more pressure on Face. And Hannibal was sure Face saw Murdock slipping as well as he did. The two of them were feeding off each other's problems and that was not good.  
  
There was a clang of metal outside, and both Hannibal and Murdock whipped around in their chairs. Hannibal could see BA, turned toward the yard, heard his voice, soft. Okay, Face was definitely out there with him, then. Murdock stood and wandered outside to join them.  
  
BA was Hannibal's anchor. Whatever issues the man had with Hannibal's past actions, he'd put them aside. The two of them were working together now, trying to provide some sort of stability for the team. Hannibal had learned one thing. When BA gave him that look, he shut up and thought about what he was saying, what he was planning, and why. He'd been amazed and humbled at how many times BA had had to do that, how often Hannibal had started straying from the path they'd chosen.  
  
Because this was about Face now. Not about the team, not about Hannibal, or BA, or even Murdock. But no matter how hard they tried, what Murdock said was true. It wasn't working. Despite their good intentions, despite the fact that they were working toward the right goal, it just wasn't working.  
  
Hannibal was afraid they hadn't just lost Face. He was beginning to worry they were losing Ed as well.


	50. Chapter 50

When the wrench slipped out of BA's hand and slammed onto the concrete drive, Face had been dozing in a lawn chair a few feet away. He jumped like he'd been shot, and stared wildly around him.  
  
"S'okay, man. Just a wrench, okay?" BA's voice was soft, concerned, calming.  
  
Still breathing hard, Face looked him and nodded. He tried to calm down, but it was hard. Everything was so hard, here. Everyone kept watching him. He knew they were waiting for him to start talking to his friends again. But he was careful about that. His friends said they could hear him without his having to talk out loud, so the guys hadn't a clue there. And he was trying to break that habit of tilting his head when he listened to them. That was hard, too. And Murdock seemed to catch him every time he forgot.  
  
He knew he was on edge. All the time. Waiting for the next lie. The next trick...  
  
And this place. He hated this place. People, wall to wall. Sure, they couldn't see him out here. There was a tall fence and shrubs along the fence. Closed in. Like a big box. But the people were there. Right over that fence. He knew they were close, too. He could hear them at night. Talking. Laughing. And he knew they must have seen him. Why else would they be laughing? Between the damn laughing and his friends talking, he could hardly sleep at all. And his friends talked and talked and talked...  
  
But he couldn't let on that they were here. If the guys knew that, they'd never let him go home. Hannibal and Murdock, especially. They seemed to think his friends were going to try and hurt him in some way. When it was just the opposite. They were doing their best to help him. Help him find some way of getting out of here.  
  
The last try hadn't worked at all. That was his fault. He was too obvious. Too clumsy. Hannibal had seen right through it.  
  
*****  
  
They came out of Bursey's office, and Hannibal hadn't said one word. He'd used the phone to call BA, so the van was waiting right outside the door when they got off the elevator. That was good. Because there were so many people out in the parking lot. Even having to go that three feet to the van was almost too much. Face hadn't been around that many people in so long...but Hannibal and Murdock had been right beside him, cutting off any retreat. They'd been in the van and driving away before he had a chance to catch his breath.  
  
No one had said anything for a long time. BA had given Hannibal one glance that Face saw, and just kept driving. And then they'd pulled up into the driveway of this house. This damn house.  
  
He remembered it. They kept it leased as a safe house, and never stayed there more than a few days at a time. He wasn't happy that they had come here, when they were supposed to be going back to the village. But he'd thought maybe Hannibal just wanted to stay overnight before heading back in the morning. BA had pulled all the way into the garage, and they'd all gone through the breezeway into the house. And then it had all fallen apart.  
  
"BA, why don't you and Murdock go pick up supplies."  
  
Face had watched in dismay as the two had turned right around and left. Supplies? Why did they need supplies? He turned to Hannibal. "I thought you said I could go home after this?"  
  
Hannibal had positively glared back at him. Ignored his question. "You want to explain what happened back there at Bursey's?"  
  
"You saw the pictures, Hannibal. What was the point?" He'd tried to move out of the room, go to his room. He was suddenly feeling very cold and shaky. Hannibal had stepped in front of him, blocking the hallway.  
  
"Yes, I saw the pictures. And I know they weren't what we had hoped for, but they didn't look that bad. I think it would've been worth going for. And I think, if you hadn't already made up your mind, you would have."  
  
"I don't know what you mean, Hannibal."  
  
"Oh, no? You really think I'm that dumb? You go see Bursey, tell him no, and think that's all you have to do to go home. Right? Wrong!"  
  
Hannibal stalked away to stand in the middle of the living room. For a split second, Face wanted to race down the hall like a scared kid and hide in his room. He remembered that feeling, when faced with Sister "belt across the back" Bertina.  
  
"I think we're all going to stay put for a while. You need to really think about that surgery, Fa...Ed. And you won't do that if I let you run back to the desert and hide in that trailer. So, for the time being, we're just going to settle in here."  
  
Face felt like the rug had just been pulled out from under him. No, not the rug. The whole world. He felt light headed, dizzy. He was supposed to go home. Hannibal had promised...  
  
He didn't really hear the rest of what Hannibal said. Something about helping him find himself, letting him get his bearings again. Being with people who really cared. He just remembered nodding, and finally, Hannibal had let him off the hook, apparently believing that Face was now okay with staying here. He'd gone to his room and closed the door. Sat on the bed, lost.  
  
And his friends had come to console him. And warn him.  
  
*****  
  
"Hey, Ed!" Murdock dropped down to sit in front of him, smiling happily.  
  
Face managed not to jump out of his skin this time. Murdock had come up on his blind side again. He should say something, but he didn't want to rock the boat. He kept thinking if he just went along with things, if they thought he was cooperating, maybe they'd let him go home sooner.  
  
He really thought Hannibal had understood.  
  
We told you he lied.  
  
I know.  
  
You should have listened to us.  
  
I know! I'm sorry...  
  
We have to bring you home.  
  
How? What am I supposed to do? Hail a cab? You were right. And I was wrong. So wrong. Again. Fucked up everything. I should've listened to you. I never should've agreed to come with Hannibal. I never...  
  
It's all right. We'll think of something. Just be careful. They're full of tricks.  
  
"Ed?"  
  
Face really jumped this time. He couldn't help it. Murdock had put his hand on Face's shoulder. He wasn't used to that. He didn't like being touched. Not after all those doctors and nurses and techs and...  
  
"Hey, take it easy, buddy. You were kinda spaced there." Murdock looked closer. "Your friends talking at you again?"  
  
"You're the only one talking, Murdock."  
  
"Yeah, but you had that look again, buddy. And we both know what that means..."  
  
Murdock was always doing that. Trying to trick him. Trying to get him to tell what he and his friends talked about. He couldn't do that. Not any more.  
  
"No! I'm not crazy, Murdock!"  
  
"I know, I know, okay? No one said you were crazy, okay? I'm the crazy one, remember?" Murdock smiled.  
  
Yeah, Murdock was the crazy one. Face had to remember that. He had to watch what he said around him, not cause more problems. Murdock was teetering. Had been for a couple weeks now. Face had to be careful. No way he wanted to cause Murdock more trouble.  
  
Like he caused them all so much trouble. All those men they'd killed. Because of him. It wasn't right. It just wasn't.  
  
"Ed?" Murdock again. Softer.  
  
"I wasn't talking to anyone, Murdock. I wasn't! I'm okay."  
  
Murdock just looked at him, smiling that smile. That sad smile.  
  
You have to come home, before you destroy him. Before they destroy you.  
  
I know...  
  
*****  
  
BA watched Murdock and Face over the hood of the van. He wasn't happy with either one of them. Murdock was gettin that wildness back in his voice again. And he was really buggin Face. He just wanted to help. BA knew that. And Face probably did, too. But BA could tell by the way Face would get all stiff in his back that Murdock was pushin him a little too far, a little too fast.  
  
What worried BA was the way Face was actin. Or not actin. He shoulda been angry, frustrated. Shoulda been demanding that Hannibal keep his promise. But he wasn't. He just kept gettin more and more quiet, more and more jumpy and nervous-like. And BA knew he wasn't sleepin at night. He had the room next to Face's, and he heard him movin around at all hours. Pacin back and forth, or just tossin around in bed. And, every now and then, he could hear him talkin to someone.  
  
BA knew those voices were back. They all did. What he couldn't understand is why Murdock and Hannibal couldn't just leave it alone? They didn't have to know what those voices were sayin. They didn't have to know what Face was thinkin. It was as clear as day to him. Face wanted to go to the one place since the accident where he'd felt comfortable, welcomed and cared about, with no demands.  
  
Nothin crazy bout that.  
  
Murdock stood abruptly and walked, deliberately casual, back into the house. BA shook his head. They'd had another set-to. Murdock tryin to help Face, Face tryin to protect Murdock. And himself. That was his other big worry about Face. That he felt he had to protect himself from the team. Wiping his hands on a towel - once, thoroughly, he reminded himself - he headed over to see how Face was doin. Sometimes he needed a little release after Murdock left him.  
  
*****  
  
"Murdock, I'm, uh, getting a bit of headache. Do you mind if we just...don't talk for a while? Please? I'd kinda like to just...take a nap, okay?"  
  
Murdock sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just trying to help. You always seem so...uptight when they're talking to you."  
  
"No one's talking to me, Murdock! No one!" Damn. He didn't want to lose control, he didn't. But he couldn't deal with Murdock's questions and insinuations any more. Why couldn't they all just leave him alone!  
  
"Okay, muchacho, okay. I'll leave you alone. No problem."  
  
Face watched as Murdock sauntered back into the house. He felt like a louse. He knew he'd hurt Murdock's feelings yet again. Why did he keep doing that? Why did everything he did hurt the people he cared so much about?  
  
He closed his eye and sought out his friends. They always knew when he was fraying. And they would talk about the desert, and the things they saw there, and what they would do when he got home again.  
  
Comforting things.  
  
"Hey, man. You okay?"  
  
He looked up at BA, standing there, concerned, but not smothering. Face had a sudden thought.  
  
He liked BA.  
  
The simplicity of that thought surprised him. Of course, he liked BA. He'd always liked BA. He was...no. No, this was different. This wasn't just because BA was part of the team. This was...different.  
  
He looked at BA again. Hard. Thought about the last three weeks, stuck here in this box, with those people surrounding him, Hannibal and Murdock watching him like a hawk, trying to trick him, lying to him, manipulating him, and BA...  
  
BA, watching him. Just to make sure he was okay. Not trying to make him do, or be, anything. Just listening, if he wanted to talk. Just being there, when he felt shaky. Just...accepting him.  
  
Accepting him.  
  
"Ed?"  
  
"Yeah, BA. Yeah. I'm okay."  
  
Now.


	51. Chapter 51

Yet another week had gone by without a word or sign of Ed. Nick was growing more and more concerned about Charlie. He wished, with all his heart, that he hadn't brought up the possibility Ed had been killed. Charlie had dismissed the idea, since Ed had been alive and relatively well when he saw Dr. Bursey. But the idea was planted in his mind, now. The military was after them, after all. And who knows if they had gone up against another bunch of crooks, or if more of Sinon's people had indeed shown up. Hell, they could've been in a car accident. The possibilities were endless, and Charlie had gone through most of them. And a palpable amount of Scotch, as well. People were starting to talk. They were getting very concerned about their leader's well-being. Several had spoken to Nick about it.  
  
It was way past time to do something about the whole situation. Dr. Bursey was their last link to Ed, and that trail was over a month old. But it was a start. And Nick had connections. So did Charlie. Loathe he might be to rekindle old acquaintances, Charlie was going to do just that.  
  
They were going to find Ed. And they were going to bring him home.  
  
*****  
  
"You'd be able to get rid of the patch, at least."  
  
"No."  
  
"It doesn't look that bad, Ed. It really doesn't."  
  
"Murdock, it doesn't move. I'd be looking to the side with one eye and staring straight ahead with that...thing. I'd rather people stare at the patch than that."  
  
"Ed..."  
  
"No! Now leave me alone!"  
  
Face stomped out of the room, and Murdock slumped in his chair, defeated again. Hannibal looked up from his book. He'd wisely stayed out of this particular discussion, but he was with Murdock. Every day, they'd try to convince Ed to at least consider having some work done. So far, it had only succeeded in making him angry.  
  
"Don't worry, Murdock. He'll come around. Maybe we need to back off a little, just for now."  
  
"But he needs to get started on some of this stuff, Hannibal! It may already be too late for some of it!"  
  
"Murdock, calm down. Going ballistic is not going to change his mind."  
  
"Well, being nice hasn't, either. Maybe we oughta just..."  
  
"Jus what, fool?"  
  
BA stood in the doorway, and he didn't look happy. "You been at him again, haven't ya?"  
  
"It's for his own good, BA. You know that."  
  
"No, I don't, Hannibal." BA stepped over to the pile of pictures laying on the coffee table, and picked up a fistful. "You look at these and think that it's gonna make that much difference? You really think all the pain he'd have to go through is worth it?"  
  
"Whose side on you on, BA?" Murdock hadn't calmed down one bit, and Hannibal wasn't any too happy, either.  
  
"Didn't know there was sides to this, Murdock. But if you want them, then I'm on his. He don't want surgery, and he don't wanna be here. And maybe it's time you two figured that out."  
  
"He doesn't know what he wants, BA. That's why we're here." Hannibal put his book down and stood up. It was always better to stand when talking to BA. "Between the accident and those voices, it's a miracle he's functioning at all. We're not trying to force him into anything, BA." Hannibal looked hard at Murdock, who angrily flounced down on the couch. "But we need to help him in the right direction."  
  
"Why is this surgery so important to you guys, Hannibal?"  
  
"Because Face, I mean, Ed..."  
  
"No, you meant Face. You both want Face back, and you think if he goes through all that crap, he'll decide to be Face again. It ain't gonna happen! He's Ed now, and he wants to be left alone. So drop it." BA grabbed the rest of the pictures and ripped them in two. Tossing them on the floor, he glared at each of the stunned men and stalked out of the room.  
  
Murdock and Hannibal stared at each other, open-mouthed.  
  
*****  
  
"What about that colonel? He's some kind of bigwig with the Pentagon now, isn't he? He should be able to find out something."  
  
"Jack? Yeah, he might. I don't know, though. It could put him in a bit of a pickle, and he was always straight with me. I'd hate to get him in trouble."  
  
"If he's smart enough to have gotten where he is, he's smart enough to cover his ass now. You want to find Ed or not?"  
  
Charlie just glared at Nick. He reached over and started pouring a glass of Scotch. Nick grabbed the bottle and strode over to the kitchen sink. Charlie watched in amazement as Nick poured the contents down the drain.  
  
"No more of that shit until we find Ed. Got it?"  
  
"Just what are you implying, Nick?"  
  
"I'm not implying anything, although there are plenty of folks around here who have. I need you thinking clearly, Charlie, and that means, no booze. Period."  
  
Charlie looked at Nick for a long moment before he suddenly chuckled. "Nick, I knew there was more to you than a simple woodworker." He shook his head, still chuckling. "Okay, boy-o, let's get to work. What did you have in mind for poor old Jack?"  
  
*****  
  
BA went looking for Face, and found him in the garage. Why there, BA had no idea, but he was sitting at the workbench, fiddling with some tools. He dropped them like hot pokers when BA opened the side door.  
  
"S'okay, man. Jus me." He stepped over to the bench. He could tell from the way Face was sitting that he was more than a little stressed. He'd picked up the tools again, and was turning them over and over.  
  
"I talked to them, Ed. Tol them to leave you alone, bout that surgery stuff. You don't want it, you don't have to have it. 'kay?"  
  
Face just nodded, still turning the wrench. BA waited, knowing eventually Face would speak his mind. He did wonder if he was just thinking, or if he was listening. That was always a bit of a gamble when you tried to talk to him.  
  
"When can I go home, BA?"  
  
BA sighed. It always boiled down to that. There had been times when BA was tempted to just load Face and his dog in the van and take off, take him home. But he'd been through one split with the team. He wasn't going to do it again unless there was no other way.  
  
"Soon, Ed. Okay? Just...give 'em a break. They are tryin. And they're not doin this to be mean or nothin. They want what's best for you. They just haven't got it through their thick skulls what that is yet. Okay?"  
  
"Yeah. I just..." Face sighed, and suddenly dropped the wrench and propped his face in his hands.  
  
"Ed? You okay?"  
  
"I don't like it here, BA. I want to go home. I want to go home now! Why won't they let me?"  
  
"C'mon, man, it's not that bad, is it?"  
  
"There's too many people."  
  
"Nobody comes here, Ed. You don't have to worry bout them."  
  
"But they're out there. Watching. Listening. All the time."  
  
BA frowned. He didn't like the sound of that.  
  
"And Hannibal...he lies to me. Why?"  
  
"Hannibal ain't lied to you that I know of, Ed. What makes you say that?"  
  
"He lied about letting me go home!"  
  
BA sighed. "He ain't really lied, man. He just...put it off for a little."  
  
"And he lied about...that guy."  
  
Oh, man. Here was trouble. "What guy?"  
  
"You know."  
  
"He didn't lie to you, man. You missed that guy by a mile."  
  
Face looked up then, staring hard at BA, and then shook his head. "You're a lousy liar, BA. Always were. So don't do it. I know Face shot him. I know he killed him."  
  
Warning bells were ringing loud and clear in BA's head. "How can you be so sure? You were pretty...out of things then..."  
  
"I was scared shitless, BA. Okay? Scared shitless. But...they saw it all. And they...they told me what he did." He looked again at BA. "You think I'm nuts, don't you? Talking about Face like he was someone separate from me. But it's the only way I can think of him now.  
  
"The fact that he really killed that guy doesn't bother me half as much as the idea that you guys might think it could happen again. That if I had to, I could go in against the bad guys and be part of the team, just like before. Bits and pieces of the way he was come out, and then everybody starts thinking I'm going to be 'okay' again."  
  
Face looked down at the wrench, picked it up, gripping it hard. "I can't do that, BA. I can't. Just the thought of...I almost got Murdock killed back there, BA. One of my best friends, and I couldn't open my damn mouth."  
  
"Nobody blames you for that, Ed."  
  
"You don't understand, BA. I'm scared. I'm scared all the damn time! I know it's stupid, I know it's nuts, but I can't help it. What if more of those guys show up here? What if Hannibal gets another client? What if Murdock finally loses it? What if a goddamned neighbor stops in to say hi?"  
  
Face stood suddenly, throwing the wrench against the wall. BA stepped back, on total alert.  
  
"Damn it, BA! I'm tired of being afraid! I'm tired of looking like a freak, a monstrosity! I'm tired of not being what everyone wants me to be, what I used to be. I'm tired of...I'm...tired...of everything..." Face slumped against the wall, slid down to the floor, folding his arms over his knees and laying his head down.  
  
BA stood where he was, watching his friend. Face wasn't the only one who was scared.


	52. Chapter 52

"Nick, can you come over right away? I just heard from Jack. And it's not good."  
  
Nick didn't even bother to say goodbye. He dropped the receiver in the cradle and hurried out of the house. He nodded absent-mindedly at several people along the way, who stared, confused, at the normally easy-going, slow-moving Nick practically running up to Charlie's. Before he'd gotten to the front door, nearly everyone in the village knew something was amiss.  
  
Charlie was coming down the hall from his bedroom when Nick rushed into the living room. He held a notebook in his hand and his eye glasses in the other. He looked grimly at Nick.  
  
"We have to leave now. Jack's found them. Or rather, a certain Colonel Decker has. Apparently they're holed up at a house in Glendale. Have been for some time now."  
  
"This Decker has them?"  
  
"Not yet. They're smack dab in the middle of a residential neighborhood. Lots of kids, foot traffic. Decker's under strict orders to keep them under surveillance only."  
  
"Are we going to get any more help from Jack on this?"  
  
"Well, he’s already gone out on a limb. He’s the one who issued the new orders - through a convoluted chain. But that's as far as he can go. From now, it's info only. If Decker's orders change, or the team tries to take off, he'll let us know. Otherwise, we're on our own."  
  
"Could he confirm that Ed was with them?"  
  
Charlie frowned. “Yes, that’s been confirmed. Which is why Jack could get the surveillance order through. Unfortunately, he had to involve the FBI to do it. They want Ed and they want him unharmed.”  
  
“Shit.”  
  
“Yeah. Not to mention Decker knows that Captain Murdock is actually with the team. I'm afraid Murdock's stay at the VA is at an end."  
  
"I'm sure Smith will figure out how to take care of him. He seems to think he's an expert at that."  
  
Charlie looked hard at Nick. "You've got to get rid of that attitude, Nick. It's not going to help anything, especially Ed. If we're able to bring him home, he's going to need us both. But he's still loyal to his friends. He doesn't need that conflict on top of everything else."  
  
"Sorry, Charlie. I wouldn't say anything to Ed, anyway, but I'll try to give them the benefit of the doubt." His words were right, but he knew Charlie didn't believe them any more than Nick did. Forestalling any futher discussion, he started for the front door, then stopped. "Charlie, what if Smith isn't willing to let us take Ed?"  
  
Charlie took a deep breath. "That'll depend on Ed, Nick. If he wants to come home, he's coming home. One way or another."  
  
Nick didn't think he'd ever seen that look on Charlie's face before, but he was encouraged by it. He nodded and walked out. As he headed for the Jeep, he felt a strange tingling run through his body.  
  
He hadn't felt that since Nam. He wasn't sure he wanted to now.  
  
*****  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
BA just looked at Hannibal.  
  
"Okay." Hannibal pulled a cigar from his pocket and lit it. He looked through the curtains at the house across the street. He'd known those people for a long time. Had made their acquaintance a couple years before, when they'd first leased the house. As far as they were concerned, Hannibal and the team were world travelers, who used this house as their base. Close enough to the truth so they wouldn't forget and create suspicions.  
  
Question was, why had those suspicions arisen now? How had the MP’s managed to sneak in without anyone on the team seeing them? And why hadn't Decker made a move on them yet? He knew they wouldn't come in with guns blazing. It was one of the reasons they'd chosen this particular location. That, and a conveniently located set of thickly landscaped yards around them.  
  
But why hadn't Decker at least challenged them? Let them know he was there and waiting for their surrender? That was Decker's style. Figuring they would either try their escape immediately, or try one of Hannibal's famous plans. But he would force the team to do one or the other. He wouldn't just sit there, waiting for them to fall into his lap.  
  
Something wasn't right.  
  
"Okay, BA. They can't see us moving back and forth into the garage. Get the van ready to go. We may have to take off rather suddenly." BA nodded and turned to go. "Oh, and BA...we’ll need to make sure Ed's ready. I’ll need your help there."  
  
BA nodded at Hannibal, and the colonel could almost swear there was an apology there. But BA said nothing more and headed out to the garage.  
  
Hannibal sighed and headed for the kitchen. Murdock was there, fixing lunch. As he passed the hallway, he looked down toward Face's room. The door was closed again. Yet. Still. He hadn't been out of there for almost a week, except to use the bathroom, or if BA coaxed him out to the garage to 'help' with some made up project. He wouldn't answer if either Hannibal or Murdock tried to talk to him.  
  
But he was talking to someone in there.  
  
*****  
  
"Can't this thing move any faster?"  
  
"Charlie, relax. It won't do any good to get stopped for speeding. Jack won't give the order to take them until he absolutely has to. And I don't think Smith is going to take any unnecessary chances, not when he has Ed with him."  
  
Charlie settled into silence. He had to calm down, make plans. Jack had described the neighborhood as best he could over the phone, but they would have to drive through and take a look for themselves. If he knew Smith's kind, the house would be situated so they had at least two ways in and out, and a clear view of everyone and everything going past the house. It would be inconspicuous and easy to defend until they could make use of one of those escape routes.  
  
And Decker in the house across the street, just waiting for anyone trying to leave.  
  
Charlie cocked his head. He knew the FBI were on their way, but it would take time. They were sending a couple of agents from the original Sinon investigation out. Charlie figured he and Nick would get there first, though not by much. Which opened a variety of possibilities...  
  
*****  
  
BA moved carefully in the garage. He knew he couldn't be seen, but he could be heard, if he wasn't careful. He was loading all their weapons and munitions in the back. It would've been a good job for Ed to help with, get him to handle the guns when he felt safe, but he'd know right off that BA wouldn't just decide to store them in the van. Not after all this time. Besides, BA didn't want him involved in any of this until it couldn't be helped..  
  
He wished Hannibal could just tell Ed about Decker. But after that last argument, when Ed had fallen apart in the garage, there was little or no communication between Ed and anyone except BA. Even so, it didn't matter what BA told him; he was listening to those damn voices now, and they were telling him God knows what about Hannibal and Murdock. Not that it mattered. He spent almost all his time in his room now. Sometimes he wouldn't even let the dog in with him. Petey would lay outside the door for hours, waiting.  
  
He stepped inside the kitchen, noting the duffels ready to go. Hannibal nodded his head down the hall, toward Ed's room, before turning to look out the front window.  
  
BA shook his head. How was he going to get Ed ready for Decker? Hell, Decker and how many MP’s sitting outside the door, waiting. And waiting for what? Decker didn’t wait. Not like this. He would’ve cleared the area and started yelling for Hannibal to surrender within minutes of finding them. So why hold back now? BA didn’t like it, not one damn bit.  
  
Nobody was acting like themselves any more.  
  
*****  
  
“Well?”  
  
“No sign they’ve seen us, Sir. No suspicious movements at all.”  
  
Decker sat back in his chair, watching the house across the street through the curtains. If he had his way, the A-Team would be on their way to the brig by now. But no, they had to wait on these namby-pamby FBI shirts. Four MP’s, Captain Crane, and himself, sitting in this house; fifty MP’s waiting in a parking lot three blocks away; all waiting for some asshole bureaucrat to decide to get off his...well, Decker could at least console himself that he now had proof Captain Murdock was part of the team. An active part. Decker was going to take great pleasure in turning him over to the psych unit at Leavenworth.  
  
The only regret he had about this whole mission was that he wouldn’t be able to grab Peck along with the rest of them. But Peck was long dead. Decker shook his head. He didn’t know the details, didn’t really need to. Some kind of accident that disabled the lieutenant; he hadn’t been able to cope with it and jumped off some damn cliff. Didn’t sound like Peck, but the fingerprints found at the motel, and statements from the doctors confirmed it. The higher-up's were satisfied, and Decker could find no reason to doubt the reports.  
  
No wonder the team had been so quiet for so long. Until now.  
  
Decker frowned. He knew they had someone else in there with them, but no one had seen the guy yet, not clearly. That’s why Decker hadn’t moved in immediately when they’d first found them. Biggest mistake of his life, reporting in first. But after the last fiasco, he’d decided to play it safe, politically. If there was a civilian in there, Decker wanted his back covered. Unfortunately, it was that very civilian that got the attention of the FBI.  
  
Damn. Leave it to Smith to make things complicated.  
  
*****  
  
They drove slowly, but not too slowly, through the neighborhood. Charlie watched carefully for the house. There. Non-descript to the point of boredom, but perfectly located, as Charlie had known it would be. He caught just a glimpse of movement from one window. He didn’t know if he should hope he’d been recognized or not. He looked over at Nick.  
  
“That’s it. Any sign of Decker?”  
  
“No, but I spotted the house they’re in. Directly across the street.” Nick was silent for a moment. “How do you want to play it?”  
  
“We need to go shopping. Find a nice, conservative men’s store.”  
  
Nick looked quizzically at Charlie. “And...?”  
  
“You and I are about to join the FBI, my friend.”  
  
*****  
  
Face heard the light knock on the door. Petey growled softly, but stayed by his side on the bed. Face watched with little curiosity as the door handle moved and stopped, stymied by the lock.  
  
“Ed?”  
  
BA’s voice. Face almost got up and unlocked the door. Almost. He didn’t want to talk to BA right now. Didn’t want to mess with some made up project, either. He had a feeling of anticipation, of waiting for something. He couldn't figure out what it was, he just knew something was going to happen, something big, something...huge. He couldn't settle down, felt his heart beating way too fast. He knew he had to calm down, so he did what he'd been doing for the last week. He went to his friends.  
  
Talk to me.  
  
About what?  
  
Tell me what Charlie’s doing today. Show me what the desert looks like. Anything.  
  
We can’t see Charlie.  
  
Face frowned. Why?  
  
Charlie’s not there.  
  
What?  
  
Face sat up. He felt cold, suddenly.  
  
Where is he?  
  
He’s not there. He’s...he’s coming.  
  
Coming here? Charlie’s coming here? Why?  
  
He’s coming for you.  
  
Face stood, feeling almost light-headed.  
  
How do you know that?  
  
You know it. That’s how.  
  
Face shook his head, confused, and looked with impatience at the door where BA was knocking even harder, calling to him. Why couldn't they leave him alone? They’d taken everything out that he could possibly have used against himself. Not that he would've done anything.  
  
We would have protected you. We always have.  
  
I know. You...and Charlie.  
  
Yes.  
  
And Charlie's coming.  
  
Yes.  
  
Face wandered to the window, which looked out into the boxed in back yard. Looked over the tree tops, toward the desert so far away.  
  
Charlie's coming.  
  
He smiled.


	53. Chapter 53

The newly rented sedan pulled directly into the driveway and stopped. Charlie, dressed in an uncomfortably conservative dark suit, waited in the car while Nick, similarly clad, strode purposefully up to the front door. He was well aware that he was being watched, not only from this house, but from the one across the street.  
  
The door opened before he could raise a hand to knock, and a voice, hidden behind the door, hissed at him to "get the hell inside". He hid the smile that played around his lips.  
  
The door practically slammed behind him, and he faced whom he assumed to be Colonel Decker. He looked like the type of man who would spend years chasing Smith and never consider giving up. Mean, arrogant, full of himself. Nick had met many men like him over the years, and knew exactly how to deal with him. Not giving the angry colonel a chance to speak, he launched into his own tirade.  
  
"Well, Decker, I see you've managed to alert these men to your presence, again."  
  
Decker's mouth flew open. "What the hell do you mean? You're the ones who drove right up to the damn house. Might as well have pasted a sign on the door. They had no idea we were here before you..."  
  
"Bullshit, Colonel. Our own surveillance tells a different story."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Motion detectors, Colonel. Long-range listening devices. Borrowed from our friends at the Company. They're ready for you." Nick had no idea if the CIA had anything like that, but he figured Decker wouldn't know either. "Now that you've given us away, it's obvious they'll try using the civilian as a hostage. And we need that civilian. He's crucial to a case we're working on."  
  
"What case? I better not have jeopardized this operation over some petty white-collar crime."  
  
Nick sighed dramatically. "I'm not supposed to divulge the details, but in light of your pig-headedness, I suppose I'll have to give you something. Mr. Mordake, the civilian, was instrumental in stopping an international plot to illegally mine and export uranium. I assume you know what uranium is used for."  
  
If looks could kill, Nick would've been pushing up daisies then and there. He knew he was pushing things, but he needed Decker to concentrate on Nick, not on the ruse that was about to be pulled.  
  
"I'm well aware of that, Agent..." Decker narrowed his eyes at Nick, alerting the 'agent' to the fact his cover was starting to cause suspicions. Decker apparently wasn't as stupid as he first appeared. Thank God Charlie was privy to all the details.  
  
"Agent Daniels. Now, we have to attempt to reclaim our star witness before things get bungled any further. My partner and I are going to try to negotiate his release. You, Colonel Decker, will wait here. And I mean, wait. Understood?"  
  
Decker hesitated just a moment too long.  
  
"I can always contact your commanding officer. I understand he received his orders on this matter from pretty high up on the food chain. I'd hate to see you as someone's dessert."  
  
Decker choked back what he wanted to say. The last thing he needed right now was trouble with the brass. No way would he take a chance on being taken off the A-Team.  
  
"You'll have a clear field, Daniels, my men will stand down. But what happens if they won't release him? And if they do, when can I move in?"  
  
Nick looked grim. "My partner and I aren't going to get into a firefight with them. We can make our case without him, it just won't be as easy. Once we drive away, with or without him, they're all yours." Nick nodded curtly, and almost marched out the door. He moved quickly to the car, and slid inside.  
  
"Okay?" Charlie was looking just a bit nervous, another sign he was out of practice.  
  
"Perfect." Nick couldn't look at Charlie, instead busying himself backing the car up. "You and I are going to 'negotiate' Ed's release. Decker will wait until we call him before going in. That ought to give Smith plenty of time to pull one of his magic tricks."  
  
"Good. God, I hope this works."  
  
Nick only nodded as he shut off the car. God help me, so do I.  
  
*****  
  
Decker watched suspiciously as the car pulled into the drive across the road. He didn't like these civilian commandos. Never had, never would. He'd heard about the way they'd dealt with Lynch. Pulling the team right out from under him. The man didn't deserve that, no matter how badly he'd bungled things before. Although this guy seemed straight enough. Didn't care about Smith or the others, just their witness. Well, that was understandable, considering. No way he could stand in the way of that. Still, it ate at him, taking orders from a suit.  
  
He signaled his men to be on their guard as the two FBI agents got out of the car. He looked carefully at the second agent. Or tried to. He seemed to be almost deliberately hiding his face. Decker scowled. Something suspicious about that.  
  
Very suspicious.  
  
"Crane!"  
  
"Yessir?"  
  
"Get me that FBI agent in Washington. Now."  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal had been watching with great interest the activities across the street, and he didn't like it one bit. Those two guys had blown Decker's cover. Sloppy. But what concerned him more was that they were obviously not military, just as obviously government. And the only government types who would be interested in a standoff between Decker and the team was the FBI.  
  
Because of Ed.  
  
How had they found out? Les and his goon hadn't known who they were. Even if they had given a description, he didn't think the FBI would make the connection. They weren't much interested in military fugitives. Charlie's bunch were the only ones who knew...  
  
And then the driver had gotten out and walked up to the house. Hannibal's jaw dropped. No way. No way in hell. He looked closer at the man still in the car. He was keeping his head down, but Hannibal knew who it was.  
  
"BA!"  
  
Murdock and BA both came hurrying into the living room.  
  
"He won't unlock the door, Hannibal. Should I...?"  
  
"Never mind, BA. Something's happening. I think we're being rescued."  
  
*****  
  
He heard Hannibal call to BA. The sudden silence pounded in his ears, and he felt a surge of energy.  
  
He's close.  
  
Face moved to the door, quietly unlocking it and stepping into the hallway. He saw the three men watching the front. Slowly he crept down the hall, standing in front of the kitchen door. Three strides and he'd be out the door. They couldn't stop him. He took another step toward the door.  
  
No.  
  
No?  
  
Charlie's coming for you. Wait for him.  
  
Why? What if Hannibal...?  
  
Your enemies are here. Wait.  
  
Face started breathing hard. Enemies?  
  
Look in the kitchen.  
  
Face turned and paled. There, laying by the door to the garage, were their duffel bags. He looked back into the living room. So that's what held their attention. They'd been preparing their escape. That's why BA had been so persistent.  
  
But he couldn't leave yet. He had to wait for Charlie. Like they said. He silently slipped back toward his room.  
  
No way would he let the team take him away from Charlie. Not again.  
  
No matter who was out there.  
  
*****  
  
Nick felt like he was repeating himself, the door opening as they approached, another hidden voice ordering them inside. The only difference was, this time Charlie was with him, and they were facing someone much deadlier than Decker. He would have to be even more on his guard.  
  
"Hello, Nick. Charlie."  
  
He turned, saw Smith smiling coldly as he closed the door behind them. He was aware that the captain and the sergeant were standing tensely at opposites sides of the room.  
  
Surrounded.  
  
Charlie smiled back at Smith. "Colonel. Glad to see you're still in one piece. And Ed?"  
  
"Ed's fine. Well, relatively. You've cast quite a spell on him, you know that?"  
  
Charlie sighed. "No spells, Colonel. I had hoped you would have realized that by now."  
  
"Can we cut the chit chat? In case you hadn't noticed, Colonel, you've got company across the street, and he's not exactly a patient man." Nick cut in curtly. These two could cat fight over Ed later. If there was a later. "I've got Decker convinced to wait to attack until we have Ed out of sight, so he stays 'cooperative'. Stockholm syndrome and all that. But he's not going to wait forever. Now, where's Ed?"  
  
Smith had stiffened at the harsh tone, but now he was all business. "He'll let Ed go? He doesn't know who he is?"  
  
"Not a clue. Apparently the Army is under the impression that Lieutenant Peck really did die on the cliff."  
  
Charlie stepped forward, eagerly. "We have a chance to get Ed out of here unscathed, Colonel. And give you a diversion at the same time. Decker will be waiting for the all clear while you're making your escape."  
  
"Decker doesn't worry me. What I want to know is what happens to Ed afterward? Back to the desert to hide?"  
  
Charlie looked Smith straight in the eye. "If that's what he wants, yes. I'm hoping, really hoping, Colonel, that you'll let us do this for him. And that you won't write him off because of it."  
  
"Write him off?"  
  
"Ed needs all of us, Colonel. For different reasons, but he needs us. Together. I can't keep him from going off into that netherworld of his, and neither can you. But together...together, maybe we can. But first we have to get him out of here. Before Decker finds out who he really is."  
  
"What about the FBI? Aren't they going to come looking for him, after Decker describes you two?"  
  
"Decker only saw Nick, and the FBI never paid much attention to him. There's no reason for them to connect us. Look, Colonel, we don't have a lot of time. Will you work with us on this, or not?"  
  
Smith looked over at his remaining men. Nick watched as the sergeant immediately nodded. The pilot was a little slower, but he finally nodded as well.  
  
"Okay, Charlie, you got a deal. You get him out of here, and once we ditch Decker, we'll meet back at the village." Smith sighed. "I have to admit, Charlie, my way wasn't working. I thought...well, hell, doesn't matter what I thought. What's important now is to make sure Ed's safe. And if it takes working together to get him straight upstairs, then that's what we'll do. So what's next?"  
  
Charlie looked over at Nick. Nick licked his lips. This wasn't the way he'd thought it would go. He hadn't expected Smith to be so...cooperative. He looked at Smith, at Charlie, realizing all these men cared deeply about Ed, even if they had completely different ways of showing it. Charlie was right. Ed needed all of them.  
  
He couldn't go through with it.  
  
"Charlie will take Ed in the car. If we do it right, Decker will think Ed is me."  
  
Charlie looked, surprised, at Nick. "That's not what we had planned, Nick."  
  
"I know. But...things weren't going to go exactly as we planned, anyway. Decker was going to come in full force the moment we took off, with or without Ed. No waiting." Ignoring Charlie's amazed and confused look, Nick turned to Smith. "I'll stay here. You're going to need all the firepower you can get. Decker's got at least forty or fifty men waiting a couple blocks from here."  
  
"Nick..."  
  
"Not now, Charlie. You just get Ed and get the hell out of here."  
  
Smith was watching the two men. It was obvious something was wrong but he wasn't in the mood to dissect it. Nick was right about one thing. They needed the firepower.  
  
"C'mon, Charlie. Let's get Ed out of here. Nick knows what he's doing. As long as he can take orders..."  
  
Nick smiled bitterly. "Not a problem, Colonel. It's always been my downfall."  
  
*****  
  
He was watching the door now. He'd heard the voices in the living room. He'd heard the voice. It sent a thrill of awe through him.  
  
His friends had known. Somehow, they'd known. They'd tried to tell him it was him, but he knew better. His friends were like...gods...  
  
The knock came. The knob turned and the door slowly opened. Face stood up, looking at the one thing he'd been waiting for all this time. His friend. His protector. His salvation.  
  
He practically fell into Charlie's embrace, felt the strength and calm flowing into him. He knew it as surely as he knew he breathed.  
  
Charlie. His friends.  
  
With them, he was invincible.


	54. Chapter 54

Hannibal watched from the doorway. The look he saw on Ed's face tore at him as nothing ever had. He remembered that look. Had seen it before, years and years ago, in the jungles of war. Face had gotten separated from the rest of the squadron, along with two others. It had taken hours and hours before Hannibal had been able to find them, fighting every step of the way through what seemed like thousands of enemy troops. But he'd found them, huddled down in a swamp of filth, sweating, scared, bone-tired. And that's when he'd seen that look. That combination of relief and hope and unadulterated joy...  
  
He shook himself, mentally. Now was not the time for such thoughts. He cleared his throat, softly. The two men broke apart, Face grinning happily, Charlie smiling back, reassuring. Nick stepped into the room.  
  
"Ed, we don't have a lot of time. You and I need to change clothes. Quickly."  
  
Some time later, Charlie and Ed moved out to the car. Both kept their faces averted from the house across the street, trying not to be obvious about it. Charlie slipped into the driver's seat. Moments later, the car pulled out of the drive and headed quickly down the street.  
  
Hannibal watched until it was out of sight. Grimly, he turned and looked at Nick, standing a few feet from BA and Murdock.  
  
"Okay, Nicky. Let's see if you can follow orders as quickly as you make up plans."  
  
*****  
  
Decker watched the two FBI agents leave in the car. This whole thing stunk to high heaven. He didn't believe for a minute this Mordake was a hostage. That wasn't Smith's style. And why had the agents left so quickly? Hardly time to discuss anything, let alone negotiate. Surely Smith would've made some attempt to get the team out in return for having Mordake go with the agents, hostage or not. Smith wouldn't let a trump card like that slip away. So why hadn't the guy left with the FBI?  
  
He was still waiting for a call back from the agent in Washington. Damn civilians. If this were strictly a military matter, he'd have had his answer back in minutes. He straightened suddenly, hearing a light knock at the back door. He nodded at one of the MP's, who hurried to open the door. Two men stepped into the living room.  
  
"Colonel Decker? I'm Agent Meyers. This is..."  
  
"Agent Daniels. We've already met." Decker scowled angrily at the house across the street. "Crane! Call in the troops!"  
  
*****  
  
"All right, everyone in the van! You know what to do. Murdock, keep your head down. We don't want Decker seeing you."  
  
"It's too late for that, Colonel. Decker already knows the captain is with you."  
  
Hannibal stared at Murdock, who looked bleakly back at him. BA had stopped dead in his tracks. They all knew immediately what that meant. Murdock no longer had a safe haven, no more access to Richter or the medications he had to have; he would be on the run along with the rest of the team, come what may.  
  
Hannibal glared at Nick. "Any other tidbits we should know about?"  
  
"None that matter now. Decker's probably calling in the MP's as we speak, and the real FBI is either here or close by. I suggest we get moving."  
  
Without another word, Hannibal led the way to the van. They had barely gotten in when they heard a familiar voice, shouting across the street.  
  
"Smith! You've got thirty seconds to come out with your hands up!"  
  
Hannibal couldn't help himself. He grinned at the rest of his men. "Don't you just love it? Go for it, BA!"  
  
BA smiled grimly and gunned the engine. Seconds later, they roared through the thin back wall of the garage, bounced over the lawn and broke through the hedgerow. They wove crazily through the neighbor's beautifully landscaped yard, dodging fruit trees and shrubbery, tearing a path through manicured lawn. BA knew exactly where to go; he'd walked through here many times, late at night. He was not surprised to see military vehicles careening around the corners at either end of the block as the van bounced over the curb onto the street.  
  
BA raced down two houses and pulled sharply up into another driveway, barely skirted around the garage and tore through the backyard. One more wooden fence demolished, through the next neighbor's yard, hitting the parallel street with a shriek of rubber.  
  
"Damn!" He swore as he saw two more MP's tear around the corner in front of them. Decker had learned something, after all. He swung the van in a wild arc, screaming back the way they had just come, straight at an olive green Jeep. There was a utility access lane just up ahead. BA tore down the alley, missing the front fender of the Jeep by inches. At the last minute, he pulled out of the lane and into a heavily wooded park.  
  
Two seconds later, they were racing down a hiking trail, barely wide enough for the van. BA jerked the van behind a small grove of trees and stopped.  
  
"Everybody out!"  
  
The four men raced from the van, each heading in a different direction, each knowing where the others would be.  
  
And then they waited.  
  
*****  
  
Face kept looking back, and Charlie could see he was getting more and more anxious.  
  
"He'll be fine, Ed. Nick's there; he'll make sure nothing happens to Petey."  
  
"I should've brought him with us. He belongs to me."  
  
"We couldn't do that, Ed. No way we could've sneaked him out of the house. We talked about that, remember?"  
  
"I know..." Face slumped in his seat. The euphoria of having Charlie come had died quickly when they said they'd have to leave Petey behind. What if Hannibal decided not to take Petey with them? What if he just left him in the house, for Decker to find? What would happen to Petey then? He'd go to the dog pound. They put dogs to sleep there.  
  
"We have to go back, Charlie. We have to get him."  
  
"We can't do that, Ed. Please. Nick would never let anything happen to your dog. Neither would Colonel Smith or the others. You know that."  
  
Face again looked to the back. For a moment, he was tempted to just jump out of the car and run back, get his dog. He could disappear in the city, easy.  
  
No. You stay with Charlie. We want you to come home with him.  
  
But, Petey...  
  
You would get hurt jumping from the car. We can't let you do that.  
  
Face sighed. Charlie kept driving at a sedate rate, keeping a close eye on the rearview mirror. He wasn't worried about the military; he was looking for anything that smelled like FBI. He drove in a wide arc around the city, slowly heading back to the rental agency, where they had left their Jeep. As Charlie parked the car, he looked hard at Ed, who had slumped far down in the seat.  
  
"I want you to wait right here. Okay?"  
  
Face looked sourly at Charlie. "Look around, Charlie. Where would I go?"  
  
True enough. The street was teeming with people. Charlie sighed. "I'll put the top up and bring the Jeep right up to the car. I'll be right back."  
  
Face just nodded, disconsolate. He was starting to feel trapped. This wasn't the way it supposed to be. He was supposed to feel free again. He sighed. Maybe, once they got back home, and Nick brought Petey, it would be okay again.  
  
Then maybe they would all leave him alone again.  
  
He jumped when the Jeep pulled up beside the car. Taking a deep breath, he stepped quickly out of the car and into the Jeep, slamming the door. Charlie took off immediately. He didn't know how long it would take the FBI to track down the rental, or if anyone had even realized it was a rental. It was in Nick's name, so they probably wouldn't make the connection. He just wanted to be far from here as fast as possible.  
  
Charlie glanced over at Face. Once again, he was slumped in his seat, staring at the floor, nervously rubbing his hands. Charlie wasn't happy with the way Ed was behaving, not at all.  
  
He wondered, not for the first time, what had been happening over the last few weeks.  
  
*****  
  
"You lost them? How the hell did you lose them?" Decker was beyond anger. He'd had Smith in the palm of his hand and now... "Well, get the entrances covered, right now! No one in or out until we find them!"  
  
The team had disappeared into a park of some kind. Lots of cover for them. It wouldn't matter if they found the van, although he had his doubts they would. In a park that size, they could hide for days without leaving a sign. But somehow, he knew Smith wouldn't want to do that. He'd find some way of getting out, and right under Decker's nose, too.  
  
And he'd make sure Decker knew it.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal watched the van from his vantage point. He could hear Petey barking inside. For once, it didn't annoy him one bit. He was counting on the MP's hearing the dog and investigating. The only thing he didn't want was for too many of them to investigate. He only needed a couple.  
  
He settled himself against the tree, his rifle resting on a branch. He was feeling more comfortable, more confident now than he had for several weeks. Since coming to Glendale with Face. Ed. Whoever. He wasn't sure any more just who had been in that house with them. Just some crazy man who talked to people that didn't exist. He closed his eyes, guilt sweeping over him.  
  
He'd really wanted to help Face. He understood what Face had meant about not being real, being a cardboard cutout. He'd never thought about it before, but he understood now. He'd thought they could help him figure out who he really was, find the man hiding beneath all the masks. And he still didn't know exactly where they'd gone wrong. He knew they'd pressured him about the plastic surgery, but he really hadn't thought it was wrong to do that.  
  
He sighed. Maybe just being with the team was too much pressure. Maybe Murdock was right. It made Face feel like he had to be what they wanted, instead of what he was. Maybe...  
  
Hell.  
  
He heard the Jeep before he saw it. It stopped on the trail a few yards from the van. Three MP's got out, looked around. Petey, who'd fallen silent, started barking again when he heard their voices.  
  
Hannibal grinned as the men headed in the direction of the van.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock couldn't see Hannibal or BA, but Nick was in clear view. They were both hiding behind thick bushes. Murdock was studying Nick. He knew the man had served in Nam, but that was about all. From Nick's stance, and the way he'd acted ever since waltzing into the house, Murdock wondered what outfit he'd been in. He wasn't just regular Army, that was for damn sure.  
  
Thinking of regular Army made him think of Decker. Shit. Decker, knowing about him, proving he was part of the team. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He couldn't go back to the VA. Shit.  
  
All his stuff was there...  
  
Murdock heard Petey barking inside the van. He'd always hated hearing dogs bark. Made him want to strangle whoever was letting them bark without seeing what the problem was. That and babies crying. Drove him nuts. He always thought someone ought to do something, anything. Dog didn't bark and children didn't cry for no reason. But he knew Hannibal wanted Petey barking. Was using him as bait. Somehow, Murdock didn't think Face would like that idea.  
  
Face hadn't wanted to leave the dog behind. Raised a regular fit about it, until Charlie got him calmed down. A little. Wasn't like Face, at all. Which made sense, since it wasn't Face any more. Now it was Ed, eccentric recluse. Ed, who acted like he wanted the whole world to walk away from him. No, who pushed the whole world away.  
  
Except for Charlie.  
  
He hadn't even said goodbye.  
  
*****  
  
BA was situated on the other side of the trail from Hannibal and the others. He didn't like his job, watching for reinforcements while Hannibal, Murdock and Nick took care of the first MP's that showed up. Should've been Murdock out here, or Nick. But Hannibal wanted them close by. BA knew Murdock was treading on thin ice, especially now that Decker knew about him. He had to be wondering what the hell he was going to do now. Well, he'd have to stay with the team. No choice for him there. That was going to take some adjusting to. A lot of adjusting to. BA scowled. What would happen if Murdock had problems, he had no idea. They'd have to figure something out.  
  
He hoped to hell they'd do better with Murdock than they'd done with Ed...  
  
*****  
  
Two of the MP's moved close to the van, one on each side, moving cautiously. The third stayed back, watching the woods around the van. Hannibal had a clear view of them, and his own men. He watched as Murdock moved in on the far side of the van, and Nick moved toward their backup. Inside the van, Petey was barking and snarling with a vengeance. Good. It would make it harder for the MP's to hear their attackers.  
  
Murdock and Nick stopped just before coming out of cover, waiting for Hannibal's signal. He would take the man on this side of the van, who was now peering into the driver's window. He jumped back, surprised, when Petey leaped at the window.  
  
Perfect.  
  
Hannibal stepped out from behind the trees.  
  
"Hi, guys. I'm Hannibal, and you're surrounded..."


	55. Chapter 55

Decker stared, open-mouthed, at Captain Crane.  
  
"You want to repeat that, Captain? Slowly, so I know I didn't misunderstand."  
  
Crane shuffled uncomfortably. Decker was known to kill the messenger, and often. "Lieutenant Adams just reported in, sir. He wanted to verify that Corporal Briddle had brought Sergeant Baracus in, along with the team's van."  
  
"And what made Adams believe that Briddle was bringing in Baracus?"  
  
"Adams stated that an MP, identifying himself as Briddle, drove up in a jeep, along with another MP, unidentified. They were accompanied by a third MP, driving the van. Adams verified that the sergeant was handcuffed in the back of the van. Briddle stated they had found Baracus, but there was no sign of the others, and they were taking him and the van back here, sir."  
  
"And we know, of course, that the corporal never showed up here with Baracus."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"How long ago did the good lieutenant speak to Briddle?"  
  
"Approximately twenty minutes ago, sir."  
  
Decker said nothing, but stalked to the window, where he watched his men going in and out of the house across the street. They had been searching for any clues about where the team might be going, but so far they had found nothing of value. He turned, eyes blazing.  
  
"I want every exit out of this city blocked. Every exit, Captain - I don't care if it's a horse path into the mountains. Understand? Get those FBI agents on it. No one gets out of this damn town unless I know about it!"  
  
"Uh, Colonel, sir, I'm not sure we can do that..."  
  
"That's why we want the FBI. They can do what we can't - involve the civilian authorities, set up road blocks. Remind them that their precious witness is still out there somewhere. Now get on it, Crane!"  
  
The unhappy captain hurried out of the room. Decker turned back to the window, thinking hard. Smith thought he had outsmarted Decker again, but he hadn't counted on the FBI being involved. They could do things the military couldn't.  
  
One way or another, this time Smith was going down.  
  
*****  
  
The van and Army jeep were sitting behind a quartet of dumpsters in an alley some distance from the park. The silence inside was oppressive. Suffocating. BA glared at the burger stand across an adjoining parking lot. Hannibal chewed angrily on his cigar. Murdock's fingers danced with themselves as he stared morosely at the floor. Nick sat in Face's seat, eyes closed, seemingly relaxed, but with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.  
  
They had been listening to the chatter over the Jeep's radio, and now, having heard of the roadblocks being set up, were waiting for Smith to come up with a plan to get them all out safely. But Nick knew what they were really thinking about. He'd encountered it before. It was one reason - no, the reason - he'd moved to the valley.  
  
The take down of the MP's had been simple and flawless. To a point. They were in the middle of changing into the uniforms when another Jeep had shown up. Nick, already changed, had been on guard. The two MP's hadn't had a chance. When Murdock had come to get him, the two were laying behind some bushes, tied up, gagged, and badly bruised. None of the team had heard a thing.  
  
When the two men had rejoined the others, Murdock told Hannibal about the two new arrivals. Hannibal looked at Nick appraisingly, seemingly impressed.  
  
"Nice job, Nick. Guess you haven't forgotten everything from your Army days."  
  
Nick hadn't responded, just shrugged his shoulders. He hadn't wanted to go any further with it, but Smith wasn't so reluctant.  
  
"What unit were you with, Nick?"  
  
Nick looked up at the sky. He had thought Smith and the others were starting to relax around him, that maybe he could get through this without too many complications.  
  
So much for wishful thinking.  
  
"Nick?"  
  
He looked at Smith, saw the slight narrowing of his eyes as he waited for the answer.  
  
"Tiger Force, Colonel."  
  
He had immediately felt cold angry eyes staring at him.  
  
"Oh, yeah? When was that, Nicky?"  
  
"1967, Colonel."  
  
Nothing more was said. Nothing more had to be said. Nick had gathered his weapon and clothes and walked slowly to the van. He leaned against it, deliberately casual, waiting while the others prepared to leave. BA had glared at him as Murdock locked the handcuffs loosely on the sergeant's wrists. Hannibal hadn't looked at him at all as he climbed in to drive the van. Murdock kept glancing over at him as they settled into the Jeep and took the lead, Nick driving.  
  
Getting past the guards at the edge of the park had been a cinch. One look at Baracus, cuffed in the back of the van, convinced the young lieutenant in charge that everything was kosher. They had driven for a couple miles before pulling into the alley and changing back to their civilian clothes.  
  
Now they waited for Smith to come up with a plan to get them all out safely.  
  
But Nick knew what they were really thinking about.  
  
*****  
  
Charlie drove the Jeep carefully through the side streets. Everything inside him screamed to hit the freeway and drive like a bat out of hell, but he resisted. The last thing he needed was to panic, do something stupid to bring them to the attention of some traffic cop looking to make his quota.  
  
He glanced over at Ed one more time. The longer they drove around the city, the quieter he'd gotten. He was no longer watching behind them, no longer even looking out of the windows. He sat, slumped in his seat, staring at the floor.  
  
"Hey, Ed, I know you want to get home right away, but we have to do it very quietly, okay? We can't draw any attention to ourselves. A few more minutes and then we'll hit the freeway and get the hell out of here, okay?"  
  
Ed ignored him. Charlie sighed, returned his attention to the road. They were coming up on the entrance to the freeway. Just a few more minutes.  
  
Two blocks later, traffic had slowed to a near stand still. Charlie was puzzled. It wasn't rush hour. Accident up ahead? The Jeep crawled to a stop. Other cars pulled behind them, beside them. Ed started looking around, nervously. Charlie didn't blame him. It was a rather claustrophobic feeling, not having a way out. The car to their left moved slowly ahead, a semi trailer pulled up in its place. The feeling of being encased grew. Ed sat up straighter, licked his lips.  
  
"Take it easy, Ed. Just a traffic jam. No problem."  
  
Ed glanced at him, and Charlie could see he was starting to sweat. Great. He could just see Ed panicking, jumping out of the Jeep, running through the cars...  
  
"Just sit back, take deep breaths, okay? You're perfectly safe here, Ed. Remember what Dr. Feist told you to do?"  
  
Ed nodded slowly, staring through the windshield. He started breathing deeply, slowly.  
  
"Good. Just keep doing that, Ed. These things don't last long and then we'll be on the freeway and headed home. Okay? Okay, Ed?"  
  
Ed ignored him.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock kept his head down, but was watching the others cautiously. He was waiting for Hannibal to say something, do something. He knew BA was, too. They'd both follow Hannibal's lead. Murdock glanced over at Nick, who seemed totally relaxed. Only the flexed muscle of his arms showed that he wasn't. Keeping it hidden away. Murdock looked back at the floor.  
  
He'd heard of the Tigers, a long time ago, back in Nam. Not a lot of details, a lot of rumors. They were part of the 101st, and he hadn't had any dealings with them as a group. But the rumors were enough. One of the most decorated units in Nam, they were treated with respect. And fear. Rumors that My Lai was nothing compared to what they had done. But nobody knew for sure, and sure as hell nobody was talking. At least, no one that valued their life.  
  
He looked over at Nick again. He was tapping his finger against his arm, obviously getting impatient. Somehow Murdock couldn't picture Nick shooting little kids and old women. No way. And surely Charlie wouldn't have let him stay in the village if he had done those things. But then, there was a lot about Charlie they didn't know, either.  
  
Hannibal suddenly tossed his cigar out the window and half-turned in his seat. Murdock tensed, as did the others. Here it comes, he thought.  
  
Hannibal looked at Nick. "You and me, later. Right now we have to get out town, fast. We're going to split up. Make it harder for Decker to catch up with us. BA, you take the van. I'm afraid you'll have to be the decoy. Try to stay out of sight, but remember, it's that van they'll be watching for, and if they see you..."  
  
BA nodded.  
  
"Murdock, you and Nick take the Jeep. Dump it somewhere near the center of town if you can. Then grab a car and move out. I don't think anyone at the roadblocks will recognize either of you, so you should be okay."  
  
"I still got that license Face got me the last time, Colonel." He pulled out his wallet, looking at the fake ID. "Yeah, Henry James."  
  
"Good. Okay, let's head out. We'll meet at Charlie's."  
  
"What about you, Colonel?" Nick spoke softly.  
  
Hannibal looked hard at him before giving him a small smile. "I've got a date with a pretty young thing." He nodded his head at a young woman at the burger stand, who was checking her watch. "She looks like she could use some company."  
  
Letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, Murdock grinned. He felt relief on so many levels. Hannibal was back, at least for now. He had no doubt Hannibal would grill Nick about the Tigers, and it wouldn't be pretty, but he was taking care of immediate business first. And somehow Murdock thought Hannibal and Nick would be okay, too. Otherwise Hannibal would've kicked Nick out right then and there. Anyway, he hoped it would work out.  
  
He liked Nick.  
  
*****  
  
The Jeep had slowly inched its way forward over the last half hour. Charlie could see some kind of activity up ahead now. He leaned out the window, trying to get a better view. He stopped cold, and quickly glanced over at Ed, who was now mumbling softly to himself. He looked ahead once more, watching the MP's stopping at every vehicle, looking at driver's licenses and faces, his mind racing.  
  
He knew Ed had no identification. That in itself would get them taken into custody. He couldn't let that happen. They would find out who Charlie was, and fingerprint Ed, not to mention expecting an explanation for that little subterfuge with Decker. No, Charlie couldn't let that happen.  
  
But that meant they'd have to make a run for it.  
  
He looked around. Cars, trucks, busses. A lot of people milling around, trying to see what was going on, waiting to hop back into their vehicles at the slightest hint of movement. He had no doubt he could disappear easily into that morass. Ed was another matter.  
  
The only thing Charlie could hope for was that they'd be able to move in and out quickly enough to evade the MP's, even if they left a trail of startled people behind them. He had seen the neighborhood surrounding them. It would be easy to disappear in the crazy veining of streets and alleys. And then what? He sighed. They really had no choice.  
  
"Ed?" He waited until he had his friend's attention. "Look, we've got a bit of a problem up ahead. It seems the MP's have set up a roadblock, and they're checking the cars. We're going to have to leave the Jeep and get out of here. Now, just wait," he saw the immediate panic that came over Ed's face, "you'll be okay, Ed. Let me worry about getting us out of this. You just keep your mind on staying with me, okay? Can you do that, Ed?"  
  
Ed looked out the window, swallowed hard. "Yeah."  
  
"Good. Now, I'm going to get out and wander over to your side. Just like I'm just another curious driver. When I get to your side, you get out, and hang onto my arm. Keep your head down as much as possible. Just make sure you don't let go."  
  
"Don't have to worry about that." There was more than just a hint of sarcasm in his voice.  
  
"It'll be fine, Ed. Just don't panic. We'll get through this in no time."  
  
"How will we get home?"  
  
Charlie almost said, "Haven't a clue.", but he knew better. "Let me worry about that, Ed. I have a trick or two up my sleeve, yet." He smiled encouragingly.  
  
Ed looked at him for a moment, then stared ahead. Charlie could see the MP's getting closer. Time to get moving.  
  
He stepped calmly out of the Jeep and around the front. As he moved closer to the door, he could see Ed's lips moving rapidly. He took the handle and opened the door.  
  
"Okay, Ed. Let's go."


	56. Chapter 56

BA drove through every little side street and parking lot he could to stay off the main roadways. He was back-tracking to the park, figuring it was the last place Decker would look for any of them. He wished Hannibal and the others had stuck together, but he also understood the colonel's reasoning. They were up against more than just Decker and his ego this time. The FBI had their own methods, methods that the team hadn't gone up against before. Just as well they couldn't sweep them all up at once.  
  
He had a couple of close calls before actually reaching the entrance to the park, but he was so used to being pursued he easily evaded them. But by the time he actually drove back into the park, he was feeling the effects of the long day. He drove carefully through the park, eventually pulling off into the trees and going cross-country, watching always for MP's or anyone else who might be patrolling the area. Eventually he found a spot where the van would be hidden from view.  
  
He walked around the van, checking out the area. It was about as secure as it could be, all things considered. And he felt a little comfort, knowing he had an alarm of sorts, sitting once again in Hannibal's seat, waiting for him. He chuckled, remembering Hannibal's look when Murdock had suggested, facetiously, that Petey would be an excellent "hook" to catch the young woman Hannibal had his eye on.  
  
BA climbed into the van, and stretched out in the back. He set his watch alarm, knowing a few hours sleep would not only feel good, but ensure that the initial hunting frenzy would have died down some. He planned on heading straight north, through the park, and on northward toward Burbank. Just the opposite direction of the village. He'd then circle around and head to Charlie's. He figured he'd be there late that night.  
  
He stared up at the ceiling. He was still too wound up to go immediately to sleep. And he had a lot to think about.  
  
Like Face and Charlie.  
  
He'd seen the look on Hannibal's face when Charlie walked into Face's room. There for just for a split second, but he'd seen it. He could only imagine what was going through the colonel's head right then. He sighed. He knew Face was all screwed up inside, but BA also knew that, deep down, he still felt a strong loyalty to Hannibal. If he didn't, he wouldn't be all upset thinking Hannibal was lying to him. And Hannibal shouldn't have lied to him, shouldn't have kept him away from Charlie.  
  
And that's what Hannibal was really doing. He didn't care if Face lived out there in the desert. The colonel was just plain jealous of Charlie.  
  
And thinking about Charlie brought BA back to Nick.  
  
Nick, a member of the Tiger Force. No way. Just no way. His first instinct had been to bash Nick's face in, but after Hannibal put the kibosh on the whole thing, BA had had time to think about it. He just couldn't see Nick doin all those things - cuttin people's ears off, shootin civilians just 'cause they was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And the way Nick had talked when they first met up with him - about bein tired of killin and bein killed. That didn't sound like no one who would kill women and children.  
  
Or maybe it sounded like someone who was ashamed of havin done just that...  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal watched as the van and Jeep drove off in opposite directions. He noted, nodding appreciatively, that BA almost immediately turned north. He'd go back to the park. Smartest move to make, considering he was the most likely to be spotted. BA knew Decker well enough to know he'd have pulled everyone away from the park and stuck them on the roadblocks.  
  
He caught one last view of Murdock and Nick as they turned the corner and headed down the street. He almost thought for a moment they should've changed back into the uniforms, but they wouldn't have the Jeep that long. He knew Murdock would be able to lose anyone who might try to stop them. Strangely enough, he felt somewhat more confident knowing Nick was with him.  
  
He still didn't like Nick, and now, knowing his history a little more, he had even more reason not to like him. But he was obviously a good soldier, and would act as a balance for Murdock. And Murdock needed that now. He was too close to the edge, too much bouncing back and forth between the crazy and the sane. Without Face...well, hell.  
  
The more Hannibal thought about it, the more he realized that Nick wasn't that much older than either Face or BA. He thought back to the way those two had been, when he first met up with them. He knew, without hesitation, that BA wouldn't have put up with what the Tigers did. His mother's influence left no doubt about that. But Face? Face could've gone either way. Growing up with too much institution, too little one-on-one. With the wrong commander...well, maybe Nick just got the wrong one. There had certainly been enough of those to go around.  
  
Hannibal shook himself. No time for wool-gathering. He would have a talk with Nick later, when this was over. Why, he wasn't sure. It didn't matter, after all. Well, except that he would be around Face. Probably.  
  
Enough. Right now, he had a young woman to 'rescue'. He straightened his jacket and walked purposefully over to the burger stand. The woman he'd targeted was still waiting, leaning against her car, more and more often checking her watch. He stopped a few feet from her, just enough so she could see him, and glanced at his own watch with a definite frown. Looking around, as if watching for a ride that should already have been there, he caught her looking at him, and smiled, ruefully.  
  
"I hate people who aren't punctual, don't you?"  
  
*****  
  
Nick drove quickly and efficiently through the streets. He didn't look anywhere except at the immediate traffic around him, trusting Murdock to watch for MP's or dark, government-style sedans. He drove for some distance, wanting to put as much distance between themselves and Smith before leaving the Jeep. He didn't know if that was for their protection or Smith's, and didn't dwell on it.  
  
He finally found a place to dump their vehicle, behind a gas station where several other vehicles were already parked. He slid it carefully between a pickup truck and the fence, figuring it wouldn't be seen from the street for some time. He looked at Murdock.  
  
"How are you at hot-wiring cars, Captain?"  
  
"Well, it's not really my area of expertise. I was thinking something along more conventional lines." He looked pointedly at a bus stop across the street.  
  
"A bus? You want to make a getaway on a city bus?"  
  
Murdock nodded, enthusiastically. "City busses don't go out of town, so no one is going to be stopping them."  
  
"But we want to get out of town, Murdock."  
  
Murdock continued as if Nick hadn't said a word. "City busses do go to the edge of town. All edges of town. So if we see anyone we know, we can change busses and go in another direction. I think, in a city of this size, we should be able to find the one less guarded by, and that will make all the difference."  
  
Nick looked askance at his new partner. It made sense, in a roundabout way. He would've preferred to just heist a car and be gone, but then again, stolen cars got reported.  
  
"Okay, Murdock. We'll take the first bus that comes along, and figure out where to go from there." He climbed out of the Jeep and headed across the parking lot, trying to act casual. Murdock bounced along beside him.  
  
They made it across the street with no problem, and mingled with the small crowd waiting at the bus stop. Nick knew Murdock was watching him. He only hoped he would keep his mouth shut until a more private time.  
  
"Nick, can I ask you something?"  
  
Nick sighed. At least Murdock was keeping his voice low. "What?"  
  
"When you were with...them..."  
  
"The Tigers, you mean?"  
  
Murdock glanced around, as if suddenly realizing they were surrounded by people. "Yeah. Uh, did you...well, did you..."  
  
"No, Murdock, I managed to transfer out before it came to that. Thanks for bothering to ask."  
  
Murdock smiled briefly, then frowned. "Did you report it?"  
  
Nick looked up the street. A bus was lumbering toward them, and the crowd began moving closer to the curb. He looked at Murdock, returning the frown.  
  
"No, Captain, I didn't. I wanted to get out of that hell hole in one piece, and I didn't fancy watching out for my own kind as well as the enemy. Nothing would have been done, anyway. The Army didn't need that kind of publicity, not back then."  
  
Murdock stared down at the ground. For some reason, he felt ashamed.  
  
The bus arrived, and Nick nudged Murdock forward. Together, they found a seat near the rear, where they could easily watch anyone coming up from behind.  
  
The bus shuddered and jerked, and moved ponderously into traffic.  
  
*****  
  
He felt himself pulled along, not roughly, not quickly, but with urgency. He was turned this way and that, and he bumped into things, into people. He kept his head down, turned toward his companion, holding on tightly to the rough sleeve. He could hear the man talking, but it buzzed around inside his head, mixing with the sound of car engines, the rumble of trucks and busses and other people's voices, and he couldn't make any of the noises go away.  
  
He stumbled over the curb, and felt Charlie grab his arm with his free hand. It was hard to breathe; he was suffocating. But Charlie just kept pulling him, making him, making him, not letting him stop. He heard something behind them, something loud, a shout. Charlie pulled harder, faster, he was almost running now, forced to look up, heard gasps as they swept past the people on the sidewalk.  
  
How long they kept running, he didn't know. He just kept putting one foot in front of the other, as fast as he could, holding Charlie's sleeve as tightly as he could. He was so afraid he'd let go, and lose Charlie, lose him in this maze of concrete and people and cars. And then...and then he'd be lost, too.  
  
He tried calling his friends. He thought, if they were with him, it wouldn't matter if Charlie got lost. But they wouldn't come. He didn't know why. Maybe because Charlie was there. Because they wanted him not to lose Charlie. So he tightened his grip on the rough sleeve, and ran a little faster.  
  
And then suddenly they slowed to a walk. He looked around, cautiously. No people. Very few cars, all parked in driveways. Nothing but house after house, and tall shrubs and trees.  
  
"I think we lost them, Ed. But we need to keep moving. Are you okay?"  
  
He nodded. He hadn't lost Charlie. He was okay.  
  
They kept walking, slowly, as if out to enjoy the late afternoon sun. He watched the sidewalk sliding by beneath his feet, felt the heat rising from the blacktop road next to them. Charlie wasn't saying anything now.  
  
They just walked.  
  
Charlie stopped, after a long time, and gently pulled his arm away.  
  
"It's okay, Ed. I know how to get us home now. But you'll have to be strong for a little while longer, okay? We're going to take the train, and..."  
  
"No! No, I can't go on a train! Charlie..."  
  
"No, listen to me, Ed. Listen! I can call ahead, get us a sleeper berth, so it'll just be the two of us, no one else. The only hard part will be going through the station, and I know you can do that, because I'll be right there with you."  
  
"I can hotwire a car, Charlie. I can. I know how. I can hotwire a car and we can..."  
  
"Get pulled over by the cops. Ed, we can't take that chance. We can wait until the last minute, pick up the tickets just before the train leaves, when everyone else is already onboard, and when most of the people have left the station. We can do it, Ed. You can do it."  
  
Listen to him. You have to stay with Charlie. You have to.  
  
He swallowed, hard. He'd shown the others what a coward he was. Did he want Charlie to see that, too? Did he want Charlie to detest him, the way Hannibal did? He knew he couldn't take that. He couldn't lose Charlie, too.  
  
"Okay. Okay, Charlie. We'll take the train. I can do that. I can."


	57. Chapter 57

"So, you and your ex don't get along, huh? Sounds familiar."

Hannibal smiled ruefully. "Well, what can I say? That's why she's my ex." He frowned. "I didn't think she'd be this...petty, though. I mean, pulls this 'I-need-your-help' act to borrow my car and then disappears like this. I was supposed to meet my daughter tonight in Las Vegas, too. Now that's out."

The young woman looked at Hannibal. "Why's that?"

Hannibal shrugged. "I'm paying so much alimony to Charisse, well, my budget's really tight. Which means without my car, I have no way to get out there." He sighed. "And it's her birthday, too. We get together every year to celebrate."

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, well, what can you do, y'know? Charisse does everything she can to keep me away from my daughter. Her way of getting back, I guess."

"It's awful the way ex's can be so spiteful. Mine was the same way. We didn't have kids, but I was really close to his parents. He told them so many lies about me..." She shook her head.

"So now they don't want anything to do with you? That's terrible. Why do people have to be that way, any way? Why can't they just put this stuff aside, get on with their lives? Terrible."

They sat in empathic silence for a few minutes. The burger joint was starting to fill up now, as it got closer and closer to dinner time. Hannibal was starting to really enjoy this. Janey was a very, very pleasant woman.

And not that much younger than himself...

She looked out the window for a few moments, and then turned to look at Hannibal, a conspiratorial smile on her face.

"Why don't we get one back on Charisse?"

Hannibal smiled quizzically. "Just what did you have in mind?"

*****

"Murdock, I think we've been on this bus before. In fact, I think this is like the third time."

"What makes you think that?"

"Because I recognize the driver. And I think he recognized us."

"So?"

"So he's not looking very happy right now." Nick watched the front of the bus out of the corner of his eye. "And he's getting on the radio."

"Maybe he's just checking in."

"Yeah, and maybe he's reporting a couple of suspicious passengers." Nick looked up ahead, past the driver. "Look, I think we better get off at the next stop and find some other way of getting out of town. This guy's too hinky for me."

"Well, probably not as hinky as he thinks we are, muchacho." Murdock had been perusing a discarded newspaper. He handed it over to Nick, folded up so a story on page three was staring up at him. Nick read the headline, a sick feeling coming over him.

"This can't be happening. It can't be." He looked accusingly at Murdock.

"Well, how was I to know there'd been a string of assaults on bus drivers?"

Nick closed his eyes.

It just couldn't be happening.

*****

BA didn't get the sleep he wanted. He heard Petey growl, and immediately was awake, listening. He glanced at his watch; hell, not more than an hour or so had passed. Petey was standing in the driver's seat, front paws on the door, ears back.

Not good.

He practically slid to the front of the van, and peered cautiously out of the driver's window, hoping Petey wouldn't do anything to give him away. He didn't. The dog was too tuned into the intruders. BA took a quick glance, looking for movement, and then took a second, slower look around.

Dammit.

Weren't Decker's men. Not a uniform in sight. But there were people out there, people watching the van. He just barely caught sight of a flash, zeroed in on it. A guy, standing several yards away, behind some bushes, holding something up to his mouth. Radio, most likely.

BA slid back down, resting half on the seat, half on the floor. Had to be FBI. Figures. They'd be smart enough to keep the park under at least minimal surveillance. He should've known.

Hannibal wouldn't be happy about this.

Well, he was supposed to be the decoy. 'Bout time he took these guys for a ride. He chuckled. Petey glanced down at him, tail waving.

"Yeah, dog, let's take these guys for a nice, long ride..."

*****

"I want you to just sit right here and wait, okay? Okay, Ed?"

Ed nodded, and slumped down on the bench. They were at the far end of the station, away from the few people waiting for the train, in a semi-secluded rest area. Charlie looked down at him, not happy. He knew Ed was doing his best, putting forth a huge effort to do what Charlie wanted him to do, needed him to do, but it was obviously taking a toll.

"How's your head?"

"Exploding."

Charlie sighed, kicking himself once more for not thinking ahead. He hadn't even considered taking any of Ed's painkillers with him when they left the village. But then again, he had to have Ed on his feet for this, and those painkillers would've knocked him out cold. They would have to make do.

"You can lay down when we get onboard, okay? But I want you to stay put. Don't go anywhere until I get back. Understand, Ed?" The last thing he needed was to come back and find that Ed had wandered off in a fog. "You wait right here."

"Yeah."

Charlie hesitated another few seconds before hurrying off to find the ticket desk. He glanced quickly around the platform, a huge sense of relief filling him as he noticed the dearth of passengers. Maybe this would be easier than he'd thought.

Naturally, those thoughts were vanquished the moment he stepped inside the terminal itself. It looked like half the town was waiting to board, and the other half was seeing them off. He looked for and found the station for reserved tickets, and impatiently stood in line, all the while wondering if Ed was still on the bench, if he was still conscious, hoping the MP's or FBI weren't thinking their quarry would try to take a train out of town. The line moved imperturbably slowly.

It took nearly ten minutes just to reach the desk, and then pay for and collect the tickets, and hurry through the terminal, shoving his wallet deep into his pocket. Yet another reason not to be picked up by the authorities; they might find it curious that Charlie could be ID'd under three different names. Ed hadn't said a word when Charlie had had to shuffle through them to find the name he wanted to use.

Charlie made one quick stop before leaving the terminal. A small shop, with various paraphernalia a harassed tourist might find handy.

Finally he was back on the platform, hurrying toward Ed's bench. The relief almost knocked him down when he saw Ed sitting there, looking like he'd lost his last friend, but still there.

"Okay, Ed, the train'll be here any minute so we have to get up on the platform. Here, I brought you something." He gently placed a floppy hat on Ed's head, a combination of sorts of fedora and panama. Adjusting it, he nodded. "Okay, kid. Keep your head down and we should make it with no problem. Ready?"

Ed looked up at Charlie, and there was something in his look that made Charlie uneasy. Confusion, and something else, something...well, almost like sadness. Charlie shook himself mentally. No need for both of them to be going off on tangents.

He gently took Ed's arm, and the two of them started toward the platform.

*****

"Where? When?" Decker listened for a moment before slamming down the phone. He turned to the others in the now confiscated living room of the team's house. "The van's been spotted. Those sons-of-bitches went right back to the damn park." Decker glared at the two FBI agents, as if it was their fault. "Right now the van's being tailed, headed toward Burbank. Crane - call off the roadblocks! I want every unit after that van. And this time they don't get away!"

Crane jumped like he'd been shot and hurried to the radio, immediately barking out orders. Agent Daniels was on his radio, also issuing orders.

Within ten minutes, every law enforcement agency in the area had cars either watching for or on their way toward the black van.

*****

Hannibal slid the car gracefully into the next lane, Janey sitting in the passenger seat, chatting amiably. Hannibal knew he was acting a lot calmer than he was feeling. It was all well and good to have an innocent-looking ride; it was another thing to be able to bullshit his way through a roadblock. Not for the first time, he was thankful Face had always insisted they carry a second ID on them, although he sometimes thought Face wasn't the only one who could have an identity crisis.

"Can you see anything?"

Hannibal was suddenly aware he'd tuned Janey out. He looked over at her, suitably embarrassed. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"The traffic. Can you see what the holdup is?" She smiled patiently.

"Uh, looks like some kind of police thing. Looking for dangerous fugitives?"

"Uh, oh, you better watch out then. Maybe Charisse turned you in!" she laughed.

She really had a nice laugh. Hannibal smiled back before looking ahead again. Started getting ready to...hello...

The CHiP's and suits that had been briskly checking vehicles were suddenly moving off the freeway, getting into their respective vehicles and heading out. Some stayed behind, directing the now moving vehicles out of their way. Hannibal felt uneasy and relieved at the same time.

Something had to have happened to create such a sudden change in plan. Hannibal had a very bad feeling...

*****

"Well, now they have another one to add to their list." Nick shook out his still stinging hand, and glared at Murdock.

"That was not an assault. That was an escape. The driver just...got in the way."

"Murdock..."

"Oh, c'mon, Nick. We got away, right? And we're not that far from..." Murdock looked quickly around for some sign of where they were, "uh, Atwater. Yeah, Atwater's just a few blocks now. See?" He pointed to a sign on the freeway above them.

"Yeah, okay. We still have to get around them." Nick, in turn, pointed to the flashing red and blue lights a few short blocks away, blocking the freeway entrance. "Or wait around for them." He pointed in the direction they had come from, where a smaller set of lights were flashing. "Which do you prefer?"

"Uh, actually, I think I prefer the freeway, 'cause it don't look like we're gonna have much trouble now."

Nick turned and watched as the squad cars and sedans suddenly started dispersing. He frowned, and looked back at Murdock.

"Looks like they're on somebody's trail, amigo. So let's find ourselves a vehicle, and hope whoever they spotted meets us at Charlie's."

"I still don't like stealing a car, Murdock. If we get picked up..."

"You really think the local cops are going to worry about one car in how many hundreds that get stolen, today of all days? When both the military and the FBI want them chasing the infamous A-Team?" Murdock looked reproachfully at Nick. "Where did I go wrong with you, Nick?"

Nick raised his eyes to the heavens before trudging along behind Murdock. If he ever got out of this mess...

*****

The train was swaying softly, moving steadily toward Needles. Combined with the rhythmic click of the wheels over the tracks, it was comforting. Restful. Just what they both needed.

Charlie shifted carefully on the lower berth, not wanting to disturb Ed. Charlie wasn't sure if he was falling asleep, or if the confusion in his head was finally putting him under. He still lay on his side, knees drawn up, holding his head in his hands, but his breathing was slowed down to near normal, at least. As long as Charlie kept quiet, he hoped Ed would be able to rest until they reached the end of their trip.

He wasn't happy. This didn't seem to be the typical headache Ed suffered through when he got stressed. He kept complaining about the noise, and Charlie knew he wasn't referring to anything outside his head. Charlie was very much afraid the events of the last few weeks - hell, the last few months - had finally taken whatever strength Ed had left and stomped it into the ground.

He looked out the window at the scenery slowing disappearing into darkness as the day ended and the night began.


	58. Chapter 58

"Um, John..."  
  
"Yeah, Janey?"  
  
"Why are you turning off here? This doesn't go to Vegas."  
  
"Ah, no. You're right. We have to make a little detour..."  
  
Janey sat up straight in her seat, her eyes wide. "John...?"  
  
"Oh, no, don't get upset, Janey. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not a rapist or anything. Really. Although you really do need to be a little more careful about who you talk to."  
  
"What do you want, John? Or is that even your real name?"  
  
"Oh, yeah, I'm John, all right. And what I want is exactly what I'm getting - a ride. Look, I'm sorry, Janey, but I didn't have much choice."  
  
"Where exactly are you taking me?"  
  
"You're taking me to...another nice little town. After that, you're free to go wherever you want."  
  
"What if I call the cops?"  
  
Hannibal sighed. Janey was pleasant, but she was about as sharp as a marble.  
  
"And tell them what, Janey? That you picked up a man, a perfect stranger, who bought you lunch, and then dinner? And, after knowing him for a few hours, you offered to let him drive you and your car to Vegas? Only he changed his mind, drove somewhere else instead, said thanks, and let you drive home again, unharmed? Is there a crime there that I'm missing?"  
  
"This is! This is kidnapping!"  
  
"Oh, no, not at all. I'm simply taking the 'scenic route'. And when we get where I need to be, that's when I change my mind about Vegas and you, and send you home, safe and sound. Again, where's the crime?"  
  
Janey slumped back in her seat.  
  
Hannibal sighed as he drove on into the night. He felt bad now, scamming a nice, if naive, woman like this. True, he'd had no choice, but...  
  
He wondered how many times Face had felt that same regret.  
  
*****  
  
Nick watched the sign as it was illuminated by the headlights. He shook his head. Murdock just grinned.  
  
"Want to stop in, say hi?"  
  
"Not funny, Murdock."  
  
"Chill, my man, chill! You know how many times Decker's put the alert out for the team? You really think these jarheads are going to care? Besides, everybody's looking for a black van full of fugitives in LA - not a used VW in Twentynine Palms."  
  
"A stolen VW driving by the Marine Corps base at Twentynine Palms."  
  
"Okay, get nitpicky." Murdock sped up a little, anyway. He didn't care about the Marines; he just wanted to get back to the village. He looked at the clock on the dash. It would be a good four hours before they arrived.  
  
He knew the roadblocks had been cleared because of BA. If Decker had caught up with Hannibal or Face, he would have kept them up to grab the rest. So Decker was definitely on BA's tail. He knew BA hadn't been caught. Not when he knew he was the bait. He smiled. Bet those MP's were having a hell of a ride...  
  
He glanced over at Nick, who had turned, watching nervously over the back seat as the Marine base faded into the darkness behind them. Four hours. It was a long time to be with one person and not say anything.  
  
"So, Nick. You've been with Charlie since '71?"  
  
Nick straightened back around in his seat. "Yeah, why?"  
  
"Just curious. What'd you do before that? I mean, after Nam..."  
  
Nick hesitated, and Murdock knew what he was thinking.  
  
"I mean, you go to school, or join the family business, or marry your high school sweetheart, or..."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I get it, Murdock. I went back to school, GI bill, dropped out. Wandered around for a while, then headed out to Charlie's."  
  
"How'd you find it?"  
  
"I knew Charlie from before. He and my brother worked together." Nick chuckled. "It was actually me and Charlie that found the village. Well, where it would be, anyway. Did a lot of camping out there. Charlie moved out there just after I went to Nam, along with my brother and a couple others. So, it made sense for me to take a stab at the place. Once I got there, it just seemed like a good place to stay."  
  
"Did, uh, did Charlie know about the Tigers? I mean, I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but..."  
  
"But you need to know, right?" Bitterness stung in his words. "Yeah, I told Charlie about it. I had to. Charlie always wanted to know why people wanted to live there. Didn't want people coming there for the wrong reasons. So I had to tell him. He didn't like it, but he understood." Nick turned in his seat, so he was looking directly at Murdock. "I swear, Murdock, I did not do anything. But maybe that was just as bad."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean, maybe, if I had spoken up, it would've stopped. Maybe all it would've taken was one man saying, enough, y'know?"  
  
Murdock thought for a while before answering. "I doubt it, Nick. We saw guys like that. Hannibal tried to do something about it, reported it, but it didn't do any good. Once the brass got involved, it was a dead subject, y'know? Back then, well, it just wasn't a good time to air dirty linen. The military had enough problems, stateside. You probably were right - you'd've just got yourself fragged."  
  
Nick stared ahead, watching the lines on the highway disappear under the car. "Instead, I came back here and hid, like a scared kid."  
  
"No, not like a scared kid, Nick. Like someone who just needed some time to work things out."  
  
They didn't say any more for a long time. Nick settled down in his seat and dozed. Murdock drove, and thought about someone else who just needed some time.  
  
Why was it so hard to give it to him?  
  
*****  
  
BA watched from his vantage point in the back of the parking lot. It was getting dark, but the streetlights gave him a good look at any and all traffic going through. He was pretty sure he'd lost all his followers, but it never hurt to double-check. Especially since he didn't want to lead anyone back to the village.  
  
He'd had a few close calls, back there. Nothing he couldn't handle, but it had taken a little more effort than usual, thanks to the FBI. At first it hadn't been hard at all. In fact, it had taken more effort to keep the MP's and agents with him than it would've to lose them. But he had to lead them away from the others. So he'd played with them for a while, actually started enjoying it. It was always fun, making these guys look like idiots. Not that he'd let Hannibal know that. No way. If the Colonel thought BA actually enjoyed those pursuits, he'd make sure it happened more often.  
  
So he'd run through the streets of Glendale, then Burbank, keeping just ahead of the pack. In and out of alleys, racing the wrong way on one-way streets, barreling through parking lots and warehouses as if he owned them. Even ran the van through a car wash at one point. Drove the dog nuts, that did. BA chuckled.  
  
But then it was time. He'd taken these guys about as far as he could. There were getting to be more and more of them, and they were moving in from all directions. Trying to block him. Getting smart.  
  
And then they'd brought in the helicopter. BA hadn't had much opportunity to deal with those. He soon found it was nearly impossible to lose them.  
  
Nearly.  
  
Then he realized three things.  
  
One, he now had to think about cover from above as well as from the sides. Turning unexpectedly into an alley might lose the car behind him; it didn't lose the copter above him.  
  
Second, he realized, happily, that the ground vehicles dropped back, letting the chopper take over the main pursuit.  
  
The third thing he discovered was that this pilot was not like Murdock. This one thought logically, rationally. And BA knew just how to deal with that.  
  
He had been just south of Santa Clarita when he made his move. There was a tangle of ramps and side roads there, and it was the perfect place to deal with his airborne pursuer. He took the first off ramp, suddenly cutting down the embankment and back onto the freeway, while the chopper flew off in the direction he had been going. His next 'detour' was under a six lane overpass. Surprising the hell out of fellow drivers, he slammed on the brakes, cut across the median and ramrodded the van into traffic heading the other way, still hidden by the overpass. By the time the chopper realized he hadn't come out on the other side, he was already taking a ramp onto another freeway.  
  
By now it was nearly dark, and his black van was disappearing into the twilight. He took another off ramp, heading east toward Barstow, getting away from the highway lights. At the first opportunity, he got off the freeway altogether, and disappeared in the maze of side streets and back roads, keeping to the streets with a lot of trees. Miles later, when he hadn't seen any sign of the chopper, he returned to the freeway, not stopping again until Barstow.  
  
There he waited in the dark parking lot, watching.  
  
He was surprised when he saw it, although he shouldn't have been. He waited a few minutes, to see if there were any others, but when it appeared the coast was clear, he pulled out. He followed discreetly, until he was sure.  
  
He waited until they came to a long deserted straightaway before making his move. He had to be careful, do this just right.  
  
At the first turn off, he slowed and started to take the exit. He immediately cut his headlights and pulled back onto the road. Using his quarry's taillights as a guide in the darkness, he gunned the engine and raced forward. Swinging into the left lane, he zoomed past them and swung the van wildly, coming to a dead stop across the lane. He watched, breath held, as the vehicle started skidding, straightened suddenly, and came to a screeching halt mere feet from the van. BA got out, and stepped quickly around to the driver's door, scowling blackly at the driver in the flashy convertible.  
  
"Not bad, BA, not bad. Oh, I'd like you to meet Janey."


	59. Chapter 59

"Think she's gonna report us?"  
  
Hannibal looked over at BA. "BA, after what I told her, and then seeing you, looming over her like that?"  
  
"I didn't 'loom', Hannibal. I just stood there."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
BA shook his head. Sometimes Hannibal was...well, Hannibal. Too cocky by half. But he had to admit, the little lady had looked, well, scared. He hadn't thought she could see him that good. He had to chuckle though, softly. She had taken off pretty fast.  
  
Hannibal heard him, and joined in. For a moment, they were back in the times when a plan went down well, and they could bask in the fun of it.  
  
It didn't take long for the levity to drain away. They watched the village from the van, parked to the side of Charlie's cabin. It was dark, and quiet at this end of the valley. Too dark and too quiet for the men, still keyed up from the day's activities. Hannibal idly reached over and fiddled with the radio, but the few stations that came in without a deluge of static were not to either man's liking. Sighing, he switched it off, and pulled out a cigar. He sat, without lighting it, staring ahead of him. BA kept glancing over, knowing it was a bad sign when Hannibal didn't light up. Finally, he couldn't take the silence.  
  
"Okay, Hannibal. What's goin on?"  
  
Hannibal actually looked surprised. "Nothing, BA. We're sitting here in the middle of the desert, waiting for Charlie and Face, or Ed, or whoever the hell he is now."  
  
"Hannibal..."  
  
Hannibal shook his head. "I'm not angry with him, BA. I'm more angry with Charlie than anyone. Hell, I'm not even that angry with Charlie." Hannibal finally lit the cigar, puffed on it slowly. "We've lost him, BA. I tried everything, and nothing worked. And I don't know if I can handle that."  
  
BA looked over, his turn to be surprised. "We ain't lost him, Hannibal. Not really. He's just learnin to be hisself now. And we gotta let him. We do that, and we ain't lost him."  
  
"He's not Face now, BA. He's not Templeton Peck. He's not anyone we know. Anyone we thought we knew."  
  
BA sighed. He was having a real hard time understanding why Hannibal still didn't get it. "Man, we do know him. Maybe not Ed, but we know the man. Look. What did he do for Charlie, and the village? Went after those goons that wanted the uranium. Right? He didn't back off from doin what was right, did he?"  
  
"No..."  
  
"Look how he went after those guys that killed Ray, and put hisself on the line with that gambling ring, and look at the chance he took getting those medical supplies for Murdock when he got shot. He always made out like he had no choice, but we know that ain't true. Don't ya see, Hannibal? Face wouldn't back away, and neither did Ed. Because that's the kind of man he is, no matter what his name is. He may not realize it, but he ain't really changed. Not deep down. The only thing that's really changed is all that flash is gone. And it ain't like we cared so much about that part of him, anyway, right?"  
  
"Well, I have to admit, that 'flash' did get kind of old, sometimes. But I see your point." Hannibal sighed. "But how do we get him to see it? Will he even let us try? And...damn it, BA, I want him to be happy, I want him to be safe, but I also know what that means for the team. And then there's Murdock..."  
  
"Yeah, Murdock. He ain't takin things too good, either. I thought he'd be the one who wanted Ed to be happy more than any of us, but...I don't know. It's like, the further Ed got from Face, the more Murdock wanted Face back. And before that, he just wanted Face to be happy."  
  
"I think that's the whole problem, BA. We all wanted Face to be happy. We couldn't have cared less about Ed. You seem to have come to terms with it; I'm trying to. But Murdock...I don't think he'd really thought it through. He's suddenly realizing he might be losing his best friend."  
  
"And don't forget, Decker knows for sure he's with us now. He's gotta be thinkin bout that."  
  
"Yeah, that's another problem. I don't know, BA. He can't go back to the VA now, but what the hell are we supposed to do with him? What about his meds? What if he goes into another episode?" Hannibal shook his head, closing his eyes. None of this was supposed to be happening...  
  
"We'll figger somethin out, Hannibal." BA's voice held complete confidence.  
  
In his head, it was a different story.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock pulled up to the ridge, and waited for a moment, looking down at the village. Lights were on in the houses below, and a few of the shops, where artisans still worked on their latest creations. Without the harsh light of the desert sun, it seemed almost pastoral.  
  
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Nick was also looking down on the village, smiling softly. "It really is a privilege to be able to live here, Murdock. When I first arrived, after Nam, I had to tell Charlie why I wanted to stay. And then he had to tell the council."  
  
Murdock jerked out of his reverie. "The...council?"  
  
Nick nodded solemnly. "They have the final say on whether or not anyone stays." He looked earnestly at Murdock. "I shouldn't tell you this, and you can't say anything to anyone. It could get me thrown out. Or worse."  
  
Murdock nodded, suddenly very worried. The restful feeling he'd had a few moments ago was quickly being replaced by visions of cults with passive members and charismatic leaders.  
  
"Charlie brings all the candidates he likes to the council. If they agree with him, we get a new resident. But, if they don't..."  
  
"What?"  
  
Nick turned toward Murdock, lowering his voice. Murdock leaned in, intense.  
  
"They're burned at the stake!"  
  
Murdock sat straight up, glaring at Nick, who was laughing out loud.  
  
"That wasn't funny, Nick!"  
  
"No, and neither was the bus driver or the Marines. So now we're even!"  
  
Murdock stayed mad for a minute longer, before ruefully admitting he'd had it coming. Nick might have seemed a stiff shirt, but he definitely had a nasty sense of humor. Murdock let Nick calm down a little before getting serious.  
  
"You know, when we first got here, you did say that Charlie basically decided who got to live here. Has he ever turned anyone away?"  
  
"Yeah, a few. Most of them were...well, not looking for peace, as much as 'a piece', if you get my meaning."  
  
"I can understand that, but, well..." Murdock wasn't sure how to ask this, not without sounding somehow disloyal, "everyone here seems to contribute in some way, so...why Face? I mean, Ed? I mean, he had nothing to offer, right? You said yourself he was practically a basket case. So why take him in?"  
  
"Because this is a healing place first and foremost, Murdock." Nick spoke softly, once again looking down at his home. "People come here to heal, physically, mentally, emotionally. To decide what they want when the pain is gone. A lot of people stay, and then they do whatever they can to help out. But just as many leave after they've come to terms with whatever it was they were fighting.  
  
"I chose to stay, because I didn't feel like I fit in out there any more. I think Ed will stay for the same reason. Even if he does choose to leave, it's going to take some time. He still doesn't feel totally safe here. The day he gives up his trailer and moves into the village itself, then the real healing will begin." Nick sighed. "Maybe we were wrong, Murdock, letting him stay out there by himself. But Charlie was afraid he'd leave if we pushed too hard, and God knows what would have happened to him then."  
  
"Maybe he would've come back to us." Murdock tried to keep from sounding accusing, but it was there, just the same.  
  
"No, he wouldn't have, Murdock. Charlie tried to talk him into going back to his friends, early on. Even before Charlie had any idea who you guys really were."  
  
"He did? He never said..."  
  
"No reason to. Ed refused. End of story."  
  
Murdock sighed. For a few moments, neither man said anything, both contemplating the lights below.  
  
"What happens now, Nick?"  
  
"I think it's pretty obvious Ed can't make it out there any more. No offense to you guys, but I don't think he had a chance from the start. He needed to make sense of what happened, find some way to rationalize fate, I guess. I know you guys had the best intentions, but you didn't let him do that. You wanted him to just pick himself up and move on. People just can't do that. They have to mourn. He wasn't allowed to."  
  
"So this is all our fault?"  
  
"No. You were just part of the equation. I think there are things Ed has to deal with that have nothing to do with the team." Clearly uncomfortable, Nick straightened. "We'd better head on down to Charlie's, see what's up."  
  
Murdock nodded, unwilling to let the subject go, but realizing Nick had said all he was going to. What happened after this was out of their hands.  
  
*****  
  
Charlie was standing at the window, swaying with the train, staring outside, trying to think. He'd already spoken with the conductor, to no avail. They weren't allowed to dispense medications. They could provide ice packs, but otherwise, Charlie and Ed were on their own until they arrived in Needles.  
  
He looked at his watch. Only three more hours.  
  
A moan from the bed brought Charlie's attention back to Ed. He knelt on the floor beside him, careful not to touch the bed and further disturb him. He checked the ice pack, and quickly pulled a fresh one from the cooler provided by the conductor. Ed shivered as Charlie placed the new one on the back of his neck; they seemed to help. Not much, but it was better than nothing.  
  
Charlie could deal with the headaches. He'd helped Ed through them before. But it was the other...the mumblings, the desperation in Ed's voice as he spoke to unseen people, answered unheard voices. The words were slurred, low; Charlie couldn't make them out. He'd tried talking to Ed, tried to calm him down, but it hadn't done any good. If anything, it had made him more agitated, so Charlie gave up. Whatever hell Ed was going through, he was going it alone.  
  
An hour later, Charlie thought Ed was getting better. He stopped talking, actually opened his eyes and looked blankly at Charlie.  
  
"Ed?" Charlie kept his voice to a whisper.  
  
"Charlie." Ed's voice was flat, barely audible.  
  
"We're almost there, Ed. We'll soon be in Needles, and then it won't be long before we're home."  
  
Ed closed his eye. "Doesn't matter now."  
  
"What do you mean, Ed? That's what you wanted, wasn't it? To come home?"  
  
Ed looked at Charlie, and his good eye was dull. "He was right, Charlie."  
  
"Who was right, Ed?"  
  
"BA."  
  
"About what?"  
  
Ed refused to say anything more. Charlie waited until he'd drifted off to sleep, and went in search of the conductor. It took some finagling, but when Charlie returned, a radio message was being relayed through channels, and by the time the train pulled into Needles, Dr. Feist would be waiting for them.


	60. Chapter 60

The train station was nearly deserted. Not many people took the trains any more, and fewer still took it to Needles. In fact, Needles wasn't even a stop unless one asked for it. Dr. Feist looked around nervously. Needles wasn't exactly a crime-ridden metropolis, but, after the village, it seemed that way.  
  
The train wasn't due for another twenty minutes, and Dr. Feist spent the time checking over his 'ambulance' - an old van with straps for holding the gurney in place. No fancy equipment, no blinking lights or machines that beeped. The only thing really kosher were the outside lights and siren, and he'd never had to use those. Strictly a utilitarian vehicle for getting people quickly and easily to the nearest hospital, either Boulder City or Palo Verde, each about a hundred miles away. If there was an extreme emergency, something that hadn't happened in years, Dr. Feist would call for an evac helicopter. In all his years at the village, he'd used his ambulance less than a dozen times.  
  
He hoped he was over-reacting to the urgent message he'd gotten from Charlie.  
  
Ed's headaches were something he'd been dealing with almost from the start. He knew he wasn't doing all that could be done, but without Ed's cooperation...the real key to stopping the headaches, or at least, reducing them, was to find out why he got them. But Ed wouldn't talk to him. All he wanted was something to stop the pain. And Charlie backed him up.  
  
Dr. Feist sighed. He wondered where Ed had been the last few weeks. Charlie had told him what he knew, which wasn't much. And then suddenly, he and Nick had taken off. The whole village was in a state of anticipation because of it. Charlie never just took off like that, not without telling anyone. The only other time it had happened was when that whole Sinon thing had broken open, and the FBI had shown up...That those men, the A-Team, were involved, made it hard for everyone. Ever since their arrival in the village, things had seemed off, somehow. They didn't belong there.  
  
He heard the train coming. In moments, the ground rumbled beneath his feet, and the huge engine came rolling in, air brakes screeching. Dr. Feist searched the cars behind for a sign of Charlie or Ed. There. Third car down, the conductor waving at him. He grabbed his bag from the hood of the van and hurried down the platform.  
  
*****  
  
Nick, Murdock, Hannibal and BA were sitting in Charlie's living room, waiting. They hadn't talked much, other than a brief telling of their escapes. Nick made coffee, tossed a box of cookies on the table. Then they sat, waiting. Petey wandered from Nick, to Murdock, occasionally checking BA's shoes, but mainly sitting by the front door. Waiting.  
  
Nick finally wandered out to the back of the cabin, standing a few feet from the door, feeling the cool breeze of the desert night. He was worried. He knew Charlie could take care of himself, and Ed had seemed fine when they left. But that had been hours ago. They should have been here by now, long after the roadblocks had been removed. Charlie should have at least called, let them know where he was, how much longer it would be.  
  
He heard someone come out the back door, and turned to see Hannibal standing just outside.  
  
"Mind if I join you?"  
  
"Free country." Nick winced. He didn't want to continue the antagonism between them. He was too tired, for one thing, and Charlie had been right. Ed would need them working together. "There's a nice breeze." He hoped it sounded friendly enough.  
  
Hannibal stepped up beside him, pulling out a cigar. After a second's hesitation, he offered it to Nick, who, also after hesitating, took it, nodding his thanks. Hannibal pulled out another, and the two men stood, slowly puffing away.  
  
"You've known Charlie a long time."  
  
"Years."  
  
"He knows what he's doing?"  
  
Nick smiled. "Don't worry, Colonel. He'll make sure nothing happens to Ed. He's ex-CIA. Knows more tricks than a circus monkey."  
  
"Charlie's ex-CIA, you're ex-Tiger."  
  
Nick took a deep breath. Smith didn't beat around the bush. "Emphasis on the 'ex'."  
  
Hannibal nodded, puffed contentedly on his cigar. "Murdock said you didn't take part. That true?"  
  
"I transferred out in August of '67. I'd had it by then. We'd been in the Song Ve Valley, trying to clear out the villagers, cut off the food supply to the Viet Cong. It wasn't working; the villagers didn't want to leave, and the VC were thick. We taken a lot of hits over the past couple of months, the guys were getting angry, scared. No excuse for what happened, but..."  
  
"So what broke the camel's back?"  
  
"An old farmer. Just an old man trying to get back to his village. Everyone knew that's all he was, but he was beaten and shot. Shot half his head off. We weren't even allowed to bury him. After that, it just seemed like for every casualty we had, more and more civilians died. It was made clear if anyone didn't like it, they could transfer out, but they'd better keep their mouths shut. No one had to ask what might happen if they didn't.  
  
"I was lucky, I guess. I got out before the real atrocities happened. I don't know what I would've done if I'd been there for that."  
  
"But you didn't report it."  
  
"It wouldn't have done any good. I talked to a couple guys who did, later. After they were back home. Nothing happened."  
  
"Doesn't surprise me." Hannibal sighed. "So, how much longer you suppose Charlie's going to keep us waiting?"  
  
*****  
  
"How long has he been like this?"  
  
"At least an hour. Just after I had the conductor send out the radio message."  
  
"Okay." Dr. Feist looked back at the conductor and steward, hovering in the doorway. "Okay, will you gentlemen give me a hand here, we'll get him out to the ambulance."  
  
"He going to be okay? He didn't eat anything here, you know." The conductor obviously had other things on his mind.  
  
"This isn't food poisoning. Just give me a hand here."  
  
Between the three men, they managed to get Face to his feet and half-dragged, half-carried him into the passageway. The conductor managed not to stare; the steward was less polite. Face didn't seem to care; he swayed slightly between the men, and almost melted down on the gurney. Dr. Feist covered him with a light blanket, and with the steward's help, and while the conductor checked his watch impatiently, they guided the gurney to the exit. It took some doing to get it down onto the platform, but once there, the conductor signaled almost immediately for the train to start up.  
  
Charlie and Dr. Feist hurried their charge to the van and carefully lifted the gurney in, securing it tightly.  
  
"What do you think, Doc?"  
  
Dr. Feist looked Charlie straight in the eye. "If it were anyone else, I'd have him in a hospital." Feist heaved a deep sigh. "We'll take him back to my place for now. But if he doesn't start responding pretty damn soon..."  
  
Charlie nodded. He climbed in the back, seating himself as comfortably as possible on the floor next to Face.  
  
Face had not said another word since his comment about the sergeant. He'd tuned Charlie out so completely that even when he'd gently slapped his cheek, trying to get his attention, he hadn't so much as flinched. Charlie wondered if he was still hearing his voices, or if he was blocking them as well.  
  
It was a little over a half-hour drive to the village. Dr. Feist made it in twenty. They pulled up at the back of his office/residence, and carefully moved Face into the infirmary. Dr. Feist shooed Charlie out then, telling him to go home and get some sleep while he gave Ed a thorough exam and then got him settled. Ed was officially off-limits until morning.  
  
Charlie trudged slowly through the now dark village, feeling a hundred years old. He wondered if the others had made it back yet, wondered what he would tell them about Ed. He had a lot of damage control to attend to; somehow he had to explain how his Jeep came to be used in the Glendale escape. It would have to have been stolen, but he'd have to deal with a lot of very strong coincidences. Well, he had Smith and his men. Between them, maybe they could come up with something. It would keep their minds off Ed, anyway. For a while...  
  
*****  
  
"That's confirmed?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Decker swung around in his borrowed chair, behind his borrowed desk at the LA FBI office. It had been a long and disgusting day. He had had Smith and his men in his hands, and these turkeys had let them go. How in hell had they lost that damn van?  
  
His only consolation was the Jeep. Just happened to belong to the witness in the FBI's case against some uranium smugglers. Who just happened to be a friend of this Mordake. Who just happened to have been with the A-Team. Who just happened to disappear with the driver of the Jeep.  
  
Decker stared at the clock on the wall. Nearly two o'clock in the morning. He was wide awake, and there was nothing more he could do here.  
  
He had a sudden urge to take a drive in the desert...


	61. Chapter 61

They knew someone was coming long before the front door opened. Petey's tail started wagging first, then he began bouncing off the door, whining and barking. When Charlie opened it, there was a white flash and the dog was gone into the darkness. Charlie looked after him, shoulders slumped. He turned back and found four pair of eyes boring into him. Almost as one, those same four sets of eyes turned to the doorway behind him, waiting.  
  
"He's with Dr. Feist. There was...a problem." He raised his arms, waving the men back as they stood. "No, don't bother. Doc's not letting anyone see him until morning. Later morning," he added, glancing at the clock on the desk.  
  
"What happened?" Hannibal voice was calm but weary.  
  
Charlie shook his head as he made his way to the bar. Pouring himself a long shot, he leaned against the edge. "I don't know, exactly. He was doing okay at first, but the longer we were on the road, the more he started decompensating. Then we ran into the roadblocks..." Charlie described the run through the streets, and the train ride. By the time he'd finished, all five men were discouraged and bone-tired.  
  
"So now what, Charlie? What's Feist want to do?"  
  
"Doc wants to put him in the hospital. It may be the best place for him."  
  
"No way!" Murdock stood, anger radiating. "He'd never pull himself out then! Colonel..."  
  
"Don't worry, Murdock. He's not going to any hospital." Hannibal put up his hand to still Charlie's protest. "Look, nobody's going anywhere right now. What we all need is to get some sleep. In the morning, we'll go see the doc and figure out what is going to be done. Hell, Ed may be wide awake by then." He ignored the look of doubt on Charlie's face.  
  
"There's still the matter of the Jeep. I have to come up with some kind of story to explain it's being abandoned like that."  
  
"Easy enough. It was stolen, presumably by someone who came here looking for Ed. Leave it to the FBI to figure out how they knew Ed was in Glendale. Drop a hint that it was loose lips in Decker's command. You won't notice it's missing until morning."  
  
Charlie looked dubiously at Hannibal.  
  
"Hey, just make the report in the morning and act innocent. Nobody's going to question the FBI's star witness." Hannibal looked around at the group of worn down men. "Now, it's time to get some sleep. Everybody."  
  
No one argued. In a matter of minutes, there were sleeping men scattered throughout the cabin.  
  
Down at Dr. Feist's, a small white dog lay outside the infirmary door.  
  
*****  
  
He wasn't moving any more. He didn't know if that was good or not. He vaguely remembered getting on the train, and the voices, talking to him, arguing with him. He'd finally shut them up. He didn't do that often, couldn't do it often. But they were interfering; he couldn't think with them babbling constantly.  
  
His head no longer felt like it was exploding; instead there was a distinct tingling sensation, as if his entire brain had gone to sleep and was just starting to wake up again. Except the tingling didn't go away. It was annoying, yet energizing. And he needed energy.  
  
He slowly sat up, dizziness passing over him. He sat still for a moment, getting his bearings. He looked around, not quite able to focus. There was a dim light in the corner, enough so he could make out furnishings of some kind, and cabinets, shelves. He squinted, trying to see more clearly.  
  
A doctor's office.  
  
He looked quickly around him, looking for any sign of a white coat, a doctor, nurse, anyone who might try to stop him, sighing in relief when he knew he was alone. Where the hell had Charlie brought him? He was supposed to go home. Not... wherever the hell this was. He looked around again, not recognizing anything. Then he remembered.  
  
Decker. Decker had been after them. He couldn't believe Decker could've caught them, but then, Charlie had been dealing with a liability, too. A big liability. He felt his face burning with shame.  
  
He grabbed the rail at the edge of the bed, and slowly pulled himself out of the bed, leaning heavily on the rail until the next wave of dizziness passed. He moved carefully to a cabinet near the bed, using it to keep his balance. He couldn't stumble around now; he had to be careful, quiet. He didn't know who might be around, or how badly they would want to stop him.  
  
And he couldn't let anyone stop him. Not now.  
  
He moved slowly along the wall, holding onto cabinets, tables, until he found his way to the corner where the lamp was. It hurt to look at, but he noticed a pile of papers on the desk there, with his name on them. He didn't bother reading all of it; he'd seen all he needed to. A handwritten note with the name of a hospital and some doctor's name.  
  
That kind of hospital.  
  
He felt anger building in him. Someone else trying to take over his life. Someone else trying to decide what was best for him.  
  
The hell with them. The hell with them all. He knew what was best. Finally.  
  
BA had been right. He'd been right from the very first...  
  
*****  
  
Murdock had closed his eyes and waited for sleep, but, of course, it wouldn't come, no matter how long he waited. He kept thinking about Face, down at the doctor's cabin. Alone. Murdock could imagine what was going through his head. Lord knows, he'd had enough alone nights himself. Didn't matter if the staff was wandering the halls at the VA, he was still alone in his head, alone with those wild thoughts, those dark thoughts. The thoughts he wouldn't even talk to Richter about. The thoughts that only came when he was all alone. But he knew how to get past those.  
  
Face didn't.  
  
Worse, from what Charlie described, Face wasn't responding to those voices, either. That wasn't good. Murdock knew about those, too. Knew that, much as Hannibal and the others didn't like them, those voices kept Face safe. Not in the way the team did, or even Charlie. But Face used those voices as his safety valve, his point of reason. His survival instinct verbalized. If he quit listening to them...  
  
Murdock sat up, slowly and quietly. He wasn't worried about waking Charlie or Nick, but Hannibal and BA woke at the drop of a hat. Luckily, Nick and Hannibal had left the back door open for the breeze when they came in, and Murdock had taken a spot within a few feet of it. Two long steps and he was outside. He listened for a moment, making sure no one was stirring inside, and then backed carefully away from the door.  
  
When he was several yards from the door, he turned and loped down the hill. He didn't know which cabin was the doc's, but he knew what to look for.  
  
A little white dog that hadn't come back yet.  
  
*****  
  
He was locked in. He knew immediately Charlie hadn't taken him back to the village. No one locked their doors there. And this wasn't dead-bolted to keep anyone out. It was locked with a key, to keep him in. Keep him prisoner. It had to be Decker. Only Decker would want to lock him up. Only Decker had the stupidity to think this place could hold him.  
  
He smiled grimly to himself. He hadn't forgotten everything, even if Decker had. He just had to find something small and thin. He looked around the darkened room. Damn. It was too dark to see clearly. He rubbed his eye, but it didn't help. Damn.  
  
He was starting to breathe hard. He didn't like being locked up. Didn't like being under somebody's control. He had to get out of here. He gave an ineffectual pull at the door handle, heard a whine outside the door.  
  
Petey?  
  
What the hell was Petey doing here? Petey was supposed to be with Hannibal and the guys. But that was definitely his dog outside the door. He knew that. So that meant Hannibal was here, too. Had Decker caught them all? No. Decker couldn't catch a fly with a baseball mitt. But that didn't make sense either.  
  
Face leaned against the door. Charlie had brought him here, wherever 'here' was. And Hannibal was here, too. And some bozo had locked Face up, waiting to throw him in some loony bin. But Charlie wouldn't let anyone do that. Neither would Hannibal. They wouldn't.  
  
Would they?  
  
He gave the doorknob another yank. Nothing.  
  
He knew he hadn't done what Hannibal wanted him to. He hadn't become Face again. And he knew that made Hannibal angry. Maybe Charlie had finally had it with him, too. Maybe he was mad because Face had stayed with Hannibal instead of coming home. Maybe they were going to teach him a lesson. So he'd do what he was supposed to. But Charlie didn't want him to be Face again. Or maybe he did, so he wouldn't have to deal with this crap any more. So he'd go back to Hannibal. But Hannibal didn't want him, not now. They were going to lock him up. They had locked him up.  
  
Face looked around the office again. He wouldn't panic. He would not. He had to think. They would be coming for him, sooner, later. He had to be ready.  
  
He stopped. Swallowed. Ready? He couldn't take Hannibal. Or BA. Charlie would have Nick. He couldn't take any one of them, let alone all four. He moved stiffly toward one of the cabinets, staring at the locks.  
  
He had to have a weapon.  
  
He turned the handle on the first cabinet. It opened easily. He squinted, trying to see what was inside. Cotton swabs, tongue depressors, band aids. He closed the door, leaned his head against the door. breathing hard.  
  
He had to have a weapon. He had to. He couldn't let them put him away.  
  
He moved to the next cabinet. Locked. He looked over at the desk. A bit of a smile showed. The paperweight. He'd given it to Feist a few days ago.  
  
No. A few weeks ago. Months?  
  
He frowned. Didn't matter now. He'd found the large piece of Fool's Gold out in the desert. Cleaned it up, smoothed it a down a bit. Perfect paperweight.  
  
Perfect for breaking cabinet locks.  
  
It took four hard knocks before the door swung open. He didn't care if anyone heard now. He'd found what he needed. He picked it up gingerly. Noticed his hand was trembling. Hell, his whole body was vibrating. He wasn't sure he could do this. But he had to. He couldn't let them...  
  
He began pounding on the door. He didn't care if they knew he was awake, knew he was trying to escape. Someone would come. Someone would unlock the door, try to shut him up. And then he'd have them. They'd find out what happened when anyone tried to lock him up!  
  
"Just a minute, Ed! Please! Don't worry, I'm coming." The voice came from the other side of the room. Another door? Damn. He hadn't seen that. But the voice. It sounded familiar. Dr. Feist? He was in on it, too? He was the one who wanted to shove him in the loony bin?  
  
Face stepped over to the other door, one hand grasping the empty syringe. He heard the door being unlocked, saw it swing open in the dim light, caught a glimpse of a kitchen. He stepped back a little further, braced himself.  
  
Dr. Feist stepped inside, his arm coming up, going for the light switch. Face grabbed the outstretched arm, pulled the doctor around, twisting the arm behind the doctor's back. His other hand came up to the doctor's neck, the syringe nearly piercing the skin. He put his mouth close to the doctor's ear.  
  
"One wrong move, doc, and you're talking to the angels."


	62. Chapter 62

Dr. Feist stood very, very still. He could feel the tip of the needle close to his jugular. He could also feel the very slight tremble in the hand that held the needle.  
  
"Ed. Put the needle down, Ed. You know I'm not going to hurt you."  
  
"No, you're right about that, Doc. And you're not going to keep me locked up, either."  
  
Dr. Feist closed his eyes, understanding now, knowing he had to remain calm, even if he felt far from it.  
  
"I only locked the doors because I was afraid you might wander off and get hurt, Ed."  
  
"You mean get away before you could call that hospital, don't you? You were going to lock me away for good."  
  
"I wasn't going to lock you away, Ed. I was worried, because you were...so ill. That note was only as a last resort. The very last resort."  
  
"I don't believe you. Where's Charlie?"  
  
"At his cabin. I believe the others are there, as well."  
  
"Planning what to do with me, I suppose. Making decisions about me. Well, they're going to have a little surprise there. Let's go."  
  
"Where, Ed? Where do you want to go?"  
  
"I'm going to go away, Doc. And you're going to help me. Now move!"  
  
Dr. Feist felt the push, and the needle punctured the skin. Not deep, but enough to make him realize how serious Ed was, and how dangerous. He had never, ever seen Ed in that light, but he knew now that this was not the time to talk. He would have to do exactly what Ed wanted, and wait for an opportunity to talk his way out of this. He only hoped he would have that opportunity.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock heard the dog long before he saw him or the cabin. His whines echoed through the otherwise silent coulee. Murdock hurried his steps, moving faster and faster as the dog's whines became more and more anxious. There was a sudden, harsh voice - he couldn't make out whose - and the whining suddenly stopped. He was coming up on the cabin when he saw a sight that made him stop dead in his tracks.  
  
Dr. Feist was coming around the corner, almost staggering. Petey walked beside him, not his usual bouncy self, but almost cowering, tail and ears down, looking up at him as they moved slowly along. For a moment, Murdock thought Dr. Feist was ill, and was ready to call out to him when he saw Face directly behind him.  
  
Arm around the doctor's chest, hand up to the man's throat. Murdock couldn't see what he held, but he definitely had something and it wasn't anything nice. The two men moved around the building in a slow, agonized waltz, and Murdock realized they were heading for the doctor's van. Whatever was going on, Murdock knew he had to put a stop to it, and quickly. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward.  
  
"Hey, Ed."  
  
The two men stopped abruptly, and Face looked over Dr. Feist's shoulder at Murdock. His hand moved closer to Feist's neck, and the doctor's head angled up. Face stared impassively at Murdock.  
  
"Go away, Murdock. No one's interfering any more. Not even you."  
  
"I can't let you hurt the doctor, Ed. You know that."  
  
"Then walk away, Murdock. As long as no one interferes, nobody gets hurt."  
  
Murdock sighed, shaking his head sadly. "I can't do that, Ed. I could never do that. I'll never walk out on you."  
  
For the first time, Face showed some emotion. Derision.  
  
"That's good, Murdock. You mean you'd never walk out on Face. Neither would Hannibal or BA. But Ed...Ed's a different story, isn't he? Isn't he!"  
  
"No, he's not. I mean, you're not. I mean...oh, dammit, Ed. If anyone knows anything about what's going on with you, it's me, right? I mean, talk about not knowing who you are - you haven't forgotten the Range Rider, have you? Or Captain Cab, or Dick Nash, Tommy Danger? Hell, I've even been a horse and a dog and..."  
  
"Not funny, Captain!"  
  
"I'm not trying to be funny, honest. I'm just saying I know how hard it is for you. It was hard for me to come back from being all those people. And I know it's been hard for you for all these years, going from one person to another and another. But this...this isn't the way you want to do things, Ed. You don't want to hurt anyone."  
  
"Like I said, you back off and no one gets hurt." Face gave the doctor a little shove, and they once again started for the van. Murdock was getting desperate.  
  
"Ed, wait. Leave the doc. I'll go with you, wherever you want to go. I'll make sure no one tries to stop you. Okay? But let the doc go. He's not part of this."  
  
"You think I'm stupid enough to fall for that? No, the doc is as much a part of this life as anyone. A lot more than you are." Murdock couldn't believe the anger in Ed's voice.  
  
He watched, not daring to move closer, as Face pushed the doctor next to the van and pulled the driver's door open. Moving the doctor so he stood between Murdock and himself, Face looked back at Murdock one more time. There was something there, but in the half light of the early morning, Murdock couldn't be sure. Face looked down at the dog, who was now starting to paw gingerly at his pant leg.  
  
"Petey, go find Charlie. Find Charlie, Petey!"  
  
The dog looked up for one moment longer before turning and running through the village, heading for Charlie's cabin. Murdock felt deep bitterness welling up inside. Face wanted Charlie, not Murdock.  
  
"Go home, Murdock. You, and Hannibal, and BA. Just...go home."  
  
With a sudden shove, the doctor was propelled away from the van. Face stepped quickly in, gunned the engine and roared past Murdock, heading out of the village and toward the desert.  
  
Murdock stood in shocked surprise for only seconds, before running to help Dr. Feist. Assured that the doctor was only shaken, he looked toward the cloud of dust racing into the desert.  
  
Then he, too, started running for Charlie's cabin.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal hadn't been able to sleep, and had watched, silently, as Murdock slipped outside. He knew where the pilot was going, and he felt a little easier, knowing one of the team was watching Ed. Face. Templeton.  
  
From what Charlie had said, Ed was about as far out as he could be and still make a claim to sanity. And Hannibal couldn't help think he'd played a big role in pushing him down that road. He'd tried, tried so hard to accept Ed, to let Face go. But he'd had Face for so damn many years...it was like telling the doctors to pull the plug on life support.  
  
But that's exactly what he had to do. He had to let Face die. It was the only way Ed could live. The only way the man he knew could live. BA was right. It wasn't the facade that was "Face" that he knew. It was the man. The man, no matter what name he went by. And Hannibal had to let that man know it was okay to move on.  
  
That it was time for them all to move on.  
  
Hannibal sighed. He didn't feel good now, but he felt...satisfied. It was the right decision, and now that he'd made it, accepted it, he wouldn't falter. Not again. Right was right, and this was right for his friend.  
  
He heard the dog's barking just before the front door banged open, Murdock rushing in like he'd lost his sense completely.  
  
"Hannibal! We gotta go! Now!"


	63. Chapter 63

The sun was finally coming over the horizon. He had been watching the little conclave below for a little over an hour, watching through the eerie false dawn. Long enough to see the first van race away into the desert. Long enough to see the second one follow.  
  
Decker smiled.  
  
He neither knew nor cared why the first van had taken off like that, or why the team was following it. All he cared about was making sure he kept track of the black van and its occupants. Which, considering the dust they were raising, shouldn't be too difficult.  
  
He settled back into the driver's seat of the Jeep, lit a cigarette, and started the engine. He drove around the village, cross-country. Someone might see his own dust, but he didn't have to make his presence obvious. Particularly since this group of miscreants appeared to be harboring his fugitives. Civilians usually didn't bother him, but this bunch had an ex-CIA agent as their apparent 'leader', and Decker had seen more than enough of those types.  
  
The dust trail was slowly evaporating, but it didn't take long to catch up with it. Decker stopped long enough to put a neckerchief over his nose and mouth, and slowly moved up until he was actually in the last remnants of the dust. Unless a wind came up, he should be able to coat-tail the team until he knew where they were going. And then he'd call in reinforcements. Including air support.  
  
Under his mask, he smiled grimly. In the open desert, they would have no place to hide.  
  
*****  
  
The van was a bit crowded, but the men inside were too concentrated on their pursuit to really notice. Hannibal, Murdock and BA were in their usual places; Charlie sat in Face's old seat, while Nick and Dr. Feist had settled in the rear. Nick held Petey by his collar, for his own protection. Both Hannibal and BA had made it clear they would have no patience with the dog right now, and at first, Hannibal hadn't even wanted to bring him along. Charlie and Murdock had prevailed. They had some idea it would help in dealing with Ed, and Hannibal wasn't about to dismiss anything.  
  
BA was trying to keep up with the old van without overtaking it. They didn't want to spook him, but they needed to be close when he finally stopped. Charlie had warned them that Ed knew this part of the desert like the back of his hand, and they weren't going to take any chances on losing him.  
  
Hannibal didn't think any of them were under any illusions as to what Ed had in mind. Nor did he imagine Ed wasn't expecting them to follow. He would do his damndest to lose any followers, but so far, he seemed to be more interested in putting distance between himself and the village.  
  
They had driven maybe ten miles across rough desert when BA started glancing in the side mirror, scowling.  
  
"Problem, Sergeant?" Hannibal looked into the mirror on his side. All he could see behind them was dust.  
  
"I don't know, Colonel. Thought I saw somethin back there. Hang on." BA made a sudden turn to the left, and almost immediately swung back on course. Both he and Hannibal watched the mirrors.  
  
"Nothing." Hannibal looked over at BA, frowning.  
  
"Yeah, there was somethin. There's too much dust. We just keepin sight of Ed's. Ours is trailin way back. Ain't right. Someone's followin us, Hannibal."  
  
"Damn. Charlie, would anyone in the village..."  
  
"No, I can't think of anyone who would even be up this early, let alone want to follow us." Charlie looked angry. "The Jeep. They traced the Jeep and made the connection. I should've taken care of that last night. Damn it!"  
  
Hannibal stared into the mirror. "FBI? Decker?"  
  
"The FBI would've called me."  
  
"So it's Decker. Alone?"  
  
"Makes sense. He's been burned by you guys so often, if he was playing a hunch, he wouldn't drag anyone else out here. He's probably got backup waiting, though."  
  
"So now what, Hannibal?" BA was now glaring at the dust cloud ahead, his priorities back on Ed.  
  
"I might be able to help, Colonel."  
  
Hannibal looked back at Nick. "You have a plan?"  
  
"Yeah." Nick abruptly handed Petey to Feist, and opened one of the storage lockers. "Can you get a little more lead on the guy?"  
  
"Yeah." BA looked doubtfully at Hannibal.  
  
"What do you have in mind, Nick? We don't want any permanent damage done."  
  
Nick smiled bitterly. He could well understand Ed's frustrations. Smith got an idea in his head and it never quite left, no matter what he said.  
  
"Just a little diversion, nothing more."  
  
"What about you? We can't swing back and pick you up. We have to keep up with Ed."  
  
"Don't worry about it. The only one who'll have to be picked up is Decker."  
  
Hannibal looked at Nick, then at BA and nodded.  
  
The black van began picking up speed.  
  
*****  
  
He wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings. He knew where he was going. He also knew they were behind him. How far, he didn't know, didn't care. When he got to the arroyo he'd be able to lose them. Easily.  
  
He'd thought, for a brief moment, that he should take Murdock up on his offer. He might have been a further diversion for the Colonel, somewhere along the way. But Murdock confused him way too easily. He was almost as bad as his friends, always talking him into doing things he didn't really want to do.  
  
Someone was always talking him into doing what he didn't want to do. Always expecting him to do something. Fix something. Get something.  
  
Always demanding that he prove his worth. Waiting for him to fail.  
  
He'd thought Charlie was different. He'd seemed to be, at first. Seemed content to let him be Ed. Just Ed. But then Charlie had started talking about the people in the village. The problems they were having. Little hints, at first. And he'd done what he could to fix them. Because he knew that's what Charlie wanted from him. In return for letting him stay. For pretending to like him.  
  
It was a fair exchange. Nothing unusual. He hadn't even thought about it. Until Charlie had come to get him in Glendale. Made him leave the dog behind. Until Charlie had started telling him what to do, taking charge. Getting angry. He could see it. Hear it in his voice.  
  
And then he'd realized what had happened. He was no longer able to help Charlie, no longer able to help the people in the village. He had become a problem. And then his friends...his friends had started telling him he had to do what Charlie said, that it was the only way to get home, that he couldn't make it on his own.  
  
And that's when he'd started shutting them out. When he realized that they, like Charlie, thought he was incompetent, worthless. That he couldn't save himself.  
  
A burden. A problem.  
  
No longer able to do things for them. No longer able to perform miracles.  
  
Useless.  
  
And nobody wanted useless people around. Nobody wanted problems.  
  
Nobody.  
  
The arroyo was coming up. He drove up on a rise, looking in the mirror for the first time. There they were, just as expected. He waited a moment, making sure they were following. Then he drove down the slope, into the dry riverbed. Another mile and he would come to the place where it forked.  
  
Where he would leave the van and proceed on foot.  
  
Where he would finally be free of all of them and all their damn expectations...  
  
*****  
  
Decker thought he'd been made when the van suddenly swerved off to the side and back again, but when the van continued on its way with no further maneuverings, he relaxed. Baracus probably just swerved to avoid some animal. He concentrated an maintaining his position, fighting at times to see through the dust and debris, no noticing that they were slowly drawing away from him.  
  
It was getting harder to follow them. A breeze was picking up, and his cover was diminishing. He would either have to drop way back and hope he could still keep them in sight, or move up and try to stay in their dust. He glanced at his watch. They'd been driving for some time, at a pretty damn good clip. A little further out, and he could call in the troops regardless. This far out, it wouldn't matter if Smith saw them coming. They'd have no way of getting away.  
  
Decker noticed he was having to turn the Jeep in a slow arc now, heading further north. Heading more into the hill country. Decker frowned. There still wasn't any cover to speak of, but he didn't like the idea that they were moving out of the flat lands. He reached for the radio.  
  
He never saw the thick wire stretched across his path. He only felt the heavy jolt as it hit the grill of the Jeep, slamming into the steering wheel. He struggled to control the vehicle as it careened around in a circle, caught on the wire. There was a sudden convulsion as the side of the Jeep slammed into the wire. Decker tumbled out, landing hard on the hot sand. He lay there, dazed, struggling for breath, wondering what the hell had happened.  
  
He looked up as someone came to stand near, but not too close. He couldn't see the man's face, as the sun created a silhouette. He did see the barrel of the rifle.  
  
"Colonel Decker. How nice to see you again."  
  
*****  
  
BA waited impatiently as Murdock trotted cautiously to the top of the small hill where Ed's van had stopped a few minutes ago. BA wasn't sure if they'd been seen or not, and quite frankly wasn't sure he cared. His only concern was that they didn't lose him.  
  
Murdock came running back to the van, breathing excitedly.  
  
"There's some kind of dry riverbed he's gone into. Looks kinda rocky, but I could make out some tracks."  
  
Hannibal turned to Charlie. "You know this place at all?"  
  
Charlie shook his head. "I've never been out this far. Ed must know where he's going, though. These things have a habit of dead-ending. He wouldn't drive into it if he didn't know where it went."  
  
Hannibal nodded. "Okay, BA, let's go."  
  
As they topped the hill, BA looked dubiously at the riverbed. It was, indeed, rocky. He had no doubt his van could take it if that other thing could, but he didn't like it. He pulled cautiously down the sloped bank and followed the tracks, barely visible among the rocks and dead branches.  
  
Several minutes later, BA pulled the van to a stop. The riverbed, which had slowly gotten deeper and deeper, forked now, one branch going north, the other meandering to the east. This time, everyone save Dr. Feist got out of the van.  
  
"Tracks go north, Hannibal." BA looked down that branch, noting uneasily the steep banks, strangely feeling claustrophobic. He shook his head. "I got a bad feelin bout this."  
  
"I'm not thrilled with it, either, but we don't have much choice. If he went this way, so do we."  
  
"Think he's seen us yet?" Charlie was also looking the steep banks ahead.  
  
"Yeah, he's known we were there for some time." Hannibal pulled out a cigar, but didn't light it. "I don't think he cares any more, if he ever did."  
  
Without another word, the men climbed back in the van and started following the tracks. The riverbed was smoother here, and BA sped up just a bit, anxious to catch sight of their quarry once more. They had gone maybe a half mile when they had to make a sharp turn to the right. BA slammed on the brakes as they rounded the bend.  
  
Ed's van was parked across the riverbed, thirty, maybe forty yards ahead, effectively blocking their way.  
  
Hannibal stepped out of the van, squinting as he checked out the barricade from a distance. Something wasn't right. If Face wanted to block their way, this wasn't the way to do it. He would've known it would take only a few minutes for them to roll the van out of the way and be on his trail again. And he'd be on foot now. An easy target.  
  
BA had come around the front of the van and now stood beside Hannibal. Murdock and Charlie stood just behind him. Dr. Feist had moved to the front seat, was watching the men from the window.  
  
"Hannibal?" Murdock was almost whispering.  
  
Hannibal shook his head. Motioning the others to wait, he moved cautiously toward the van. He stopped halfway between the two vehicles. He could smell something. Something burning.  
  
A cigar.  
  
A cigar?  
  
He stepped closer, saw what had bothered him. The side door was open, just a hair. He moved closer, looking hard.  
  
The cigar was there, placed carefully in the opening. Smoldering.  
  
What the...  
  
He looked at the van. Was Ed still in there? Waiting for them? Then it hit him.  
  
The van. Dr. Feist's van. Dr. Feist's ambulance.  
  
Hannibal turned, started running, waving frantically at the others.  
  
"Get back! Get back!"  
  
He watched as the men scrambled into the black van, BA turning it around. Waiting for him, door open...  
  
He felt as if his heart was going to burst but he made himself run even harder. He grabbed the door, pulling himself in. BA didn't wait for him to get seated, gunning the engine, pulling away from the ambulance.  
  
Seconds later the interior of the ambulance exploded, as the cigar's fire and the leaking oxygen tank did their duty. A second explosion followed almost immediately, as the gas tank erupted in a fireball. Fire and shrapnel rained down on the riverbed, coming perilously close to the retreating van.  
  
It took nearly twenty minutes before the flames died down enough for the team to approach the smoldering wreck. Hannibal and Charlie moved close, almost simoultaneously breathing out a sigh of relief when no body parts were seen, and no smell of burning flesh discerned. But the huge crater in the riverbed mocked them. No way they could take their van over that.  
  
"Get the gear, guys. And bring plenty of water. We might have a long walk ahead of us."  
  
Hannibal glared at the terrain ahead.  
  
He could swear he could hear Face laughing in the distance.


	64. Chapter 64

He heard the explosions echo across the desert. He stopped, looking back with a wild grin at the plume of smoke rising from the riverbed, watching as the wind caught it, swirling it through the air. Followed it with his eyes across the desert landscape, where far in the distance the mountains waited. He smiled at them, nodding, thinking. Not his ultimate destination, only a beacon, a guidepost. He would never reach them, but it didn't matter.  
  
He looked up at the desert sun, now starting to flex its muscles. It was hot, getting hotter. He automatically reached for his canteen, then remembered he didn't have it with him. He smiled, almost sheepishly. That didn't matter, either, and rather than feeling worried, upset, he was filled with a sense of freedom.  
  
Freedom. Soon.  
  
Finally.  
  
Final.  
  
As he'd been setting up his booby-trap, his mind had only partially been on the job at hand. He didn't need to think for that. Nor was he worrying about anyone getting hurt; he knew Smith better than that. Not after...Instead, he'd been thinking of what was coming. He knew it wouldn't be pleasant, but in the end, he wouldn't really know what was happening to his body. He'd smiled bitterly, reminding himself that he'd already gone through much worse.  
  
Funny. What had been decided in despair had been transformed into relief, then hope, and finally understanding. After all, he had never been meant to be. He was an accident. An unguarded moment. A problem to be disposed of. No wonder he'd never felt like he belonged anywhere.  
  
Except...  
  
No. No, that hadn't been him. He hadn't belonged to them. Never.  
  
But that didn't matter now. Nothing mattered now, except getting where he needed to be. And that really wasn't even a real place. Well, Father Magill would probably disagree.  
  
Father Magill. What would the good Father say about this? He didn't want to think about it. It made him uneasy. He didn't like the thought that he may spend eternity in the fires of hell, instead of in peace. He shook his head. No, he couldn't go to hell. He'd already done his time there.  
  
He looked again at the mountains, and then at the sun, surprised it had moved so far.  
  
Wool-gathering. Wasting time.  
  
He chuckled. No. Not wasting time. He couldn't waste time when he had all of eternity.  
  
He looked back, where the cloud of smoke had almost disappeared. Chuckled again. And then laughed out loud.  
  
It felt good to laugh again.  
  
*****  
  
Decker's ribs ached like fire, and the pain wasn't helped a bit by his arms being tied tightly behind his back. It was hard to breathe, not that his captor seemed to care. So far the man hadn't said one word, just gestured when he wanted Decker to move. Decker had recognized him as he moved about, checking the Jeep. The so-called FBI agent from Glendale.  
  
Decker, while angry at the current situation, was also curious about his captor. How this man was connected to the team was important to know. A client? Unlikely. He didn't appear to be the kind of person who would need help solving his problems. Decker knew Smith, knew he didn't normally take on 'associates'. The team was the team was the team. So was he merely a convenience? Or did he have an agenda of his own, helping the team to reach his own goal?  
  
Who the hell was he?  
  
The man had finished his inspection of the Jeep, apparently satisfied it was still in working order. Decker was glad to see the radio hadn't been tampered with; he would need that when he escaped. Decker watched as the 'agent' walked casually over, stood looking down at him.  
  
"So, Colonel, now that I've got you, what do I do with you? Leave you here, let the desert do its thing, or..."  
  
"You're not going to do that. Smith may be a lot of things, but he wouldn't go along with murder."  
  
"You're sure of that, are you?"  
  
"Dead sure."  
  
"Well, that does limit my options, then, doesn't it?" He continued to look down at Decker, a small smile on his face. "What do you think I should do?"  
  
"We could strike a bargain."  
  
"A bargain? What did you have in mind?"  
  
"Turn in the team, you walk away. With, of course, a nice reward in your pocket, and no one on your trail."  
  
The man looked at him for a long time before squatting down in front of him. He picked up a small stone, played with it, casually. Looked up at Decker.  
  
Smiled.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal moved quickly, packing some ammunition and plenty of water. Murdock, BA and Charlie were doing the same. It made their small packs burdensome, but Hannibal had no idea how long they might have to be out here, and it was understood they would stay until Ed was found.  
  
Dr. Feist was double-checking the team's first aid kit, pulling out that which wouldn't be needed. He'd checked through every small pile of debris left of his ambulance, hoping to find anything that might be of use, but other than some scattered bandages and a couple bent syringes, he'd come up empty. Hannibal didn't really want the older man coming along, after noting that he wasn't exactly in shape for this kind of trek, but the doctor insisted. After all, he had a patient out there.  
  
The team members fanned out on the far side of the demolition site, looking for some sign of Ed's trail. Dr. Feist stood by, waiting patiently for orders. Charlie also stood to the side, holding Petey by a rope tied to his collar. Petey was pulling hard, jerking Charlie's arm almost continuously. Charlie looked down at the dog, and nodded. He and Petey started forward, Petey trying to run, Charlie quick-stepping. He didn't have to say anything to Hannibal, who immediately straightened from his task to watch them.  
  
"Guys, c'mon." He may not like the mutt, but he wasn't stupid.  
  
They walked. And walked. And walked some more. The sun crept to its zenith, and still they walked. They stopped frequently, on Dr. Feist's orders, taking small sips of water, trying to find what little shade they could.  
  
At first, Ed seemed to be moving in nearly a straight line, regardless of terrain. They stumbled over rocky slopes, scratched their way through thorny scrub brush, climbed in and out of ravines and dry stream beds. Dr. Feist was getting worried. They had found increasing signs that Ed was getting into trouble. Petey stopped at several places where it appeared Ed had stumbled or fallen before scrambling on. The trail began wandering, first in one direction, then another. At one point, it even appeared he had backtracked before resuming his original direction.  
  
The dog was becoming more and more agitated, and it became difficult to make him settle down even long enough to drink. The men increased their pace, trying to find a balance between speed and safety. It was frustrating to all of them, knowing they were closing in, and yet not wanting to put themselves, and thus the rescue, in jeopardy as well.  
  
It was nearly five hours after they left the bombed out ambulance. Murdock, restlessly looking around the area as the men took another break, spotted something off in the distance, something that contrasted oddly with the desert floor. It was hard to tell what it was through the shimmering heat waves, but Murdock knew it didn't belong.  
  
All caution abandoned, the group hurried toward the object.  
  
*****  
  
He moved almost automatically, not thinking of where he walked. Not really thinking at all. He watched the mountains ahead, noting as the shadows slowly started moving, changing with the sun. He felt calm, relaxed.  
  
Ready.  
  
He wasn't sure how long he'd been walking when the first bit of dizziness hit. He kept walking, closing his eye, concentrating on taking the next step, and the next, until it passed. It bothered him a bit. He had wanted to be further along before it started. Resolutely, he picked up his pace.  
  
The first cramp hit him sometime later. He went down hard as his thigh muscle tied itself in knots. He grabbed hold, massaging roughly, trying to work it out. Finally it subsided, leaving a dull ache. He slowly stood, heart pounding. He took a deep breath, and moved on.  
  
It wasn't long before he began having stomach cramps. At first, he had to stop, doubling over in pain. Eventually, he forced himself to ignore them, keeping his eye on the mountains, walking bent over, but walking.  
  
No way he was going to stop now.  
  
No way.  
  
He noticed the mountains were moving. One minute they were straight ahead of him, the next they had moved to his side. He stopped now and then, wiping the sweat from his face, trying to get his bearings. It was harder and harder to get started again; he felt his strength ebbing away.  
  
God, he was so thirsty. He walked with his eye closed, picturing a huge fountain of icy cold water. He walked toward it, faster and faster. He had almost reached it when he suddenly felt his stomach heave.  
  
How long he'd been on the ground, he had no idea. He sat up slowly, trying to push himself up, but his arms and legs didn't seem to want to go where he needed them to. Finally, he staggered to his feet, and another wave of dizziness and nausea struck. He fell back on his knees, unmindful of the stones cutting into them.  
  
He looked once more at his mountains, beckoning, calling.  
  
Heard the voices once more, no longer willing, or able, to shut them out. Voices telling him to hold on, not let go. Not yet. Not yet.  
  
He felt the rest of his body slowly sink to the ground, the hot, hard ground. He closed his eye again, made himself think of the softest bed he'd ever slept on, with the icy cold water fountain sending a cool breeze of moisture over his body, the soft sounds of its waterfall singing him to sleep...  
  
Singing him home.


	65. Chapter 65

Nick drove as quickly as he could, considering the terrain. The tracks from the two vans were pretty obvious at first, but now and then he'd have to watch more closely as they drove over rockier areas. He had no idea how far ahead the guys were. Setting up the ambush, taking care of Decker - all of that had taken over an hour. He hadn't even looked at his watch when they finally started trailing them again. All he knew was he was getting more and more anxious to catch up with Smith and the others.  
  
He glanced over at Decker, sitting very straight in the passenger seat. He had to smile. Decker's posture had more to do with the ropes holding him in his seat than his military bearing. At least he wasn't complaining. Of course, that would be hard to do, considering he had a couple rounds of duct tape covering his mouth.  
  
He'd let Decker think he was seriously considering his offer. He'd re-tied Decker's hands in front, apologizing while explaining that, after all, he still had to be careful. Decker wasn't happy, but he accepted the practicalities. Then, after driving for a mile or so, Nick had said they had to make it look good, or Smith would smell a setup, so he'd have to make it appear that Decker was tied securely. He didn't think Decker was quite as willing to accept that, but he didn't have much choice.  
  
The tape had come after they'd driven over too much rough ground for Decker's comfort. All pretenses was lost then, but, of course, it didn't matter at that point.  
  
The Jeep bounced over a small hill, and Nick brought it to a grinding halt, eliciting a grunt from his captive. Ignoring him, Nick stepped out of the Jeep, and looked around. It was easy to see where the two vehicles had gone; Nick just didn't want to believe it. He stepped over to the embankment. Maybe it wasn't as bad as it looked. It couldn't be, if two cumbersome vans had gotten down it without destroying themselves. He shook his head, stepping quickly back to the Jeep.  
  
"Hang on, Colonel. We're about to go on Mr. Toad's Wild Ride." He put the Jeep in gear and rolled forward, hoping the previous vehicles hadn't loosened things up too badly.  
  
*****  
  
He was in the mountains now. He wasn't sure how he'd gotten there, exactly, but it didn't matter. That he was there was the important thing.  
  
He'd made it.  
  
He'd been worried for a while, thinking his body had given up on him. He should have known better. This was too important, and he'd always been able to push himself when it was really, really important...  
  
Of course, it had always been important for him only because it was important to others. Because they needed something and he had to provide it, had to prove himself or be cast out. No more. Now it was important only because this was what he wanted. More than anything. And his body had fought for him to come through. So he could win.  
  
For him.  
  
He walked along the trail, feeling the cool mountain breeze blow across his face. He could hear the waterfall up ahead. A deer stepped out of the dense forest, looked at him for a moment, startled, before bounding away.  
  
He smiled.  
  
This was where he belonged.  
  
He came to the cold, cold river that fed into the waterfall. He slowly sank down on the bank, watching the water rush by, listening to the gentle roar as it cascaded over the edge. He closed his eyes, felt himself relaxing, resting, casting off the shadows and scars...  
  
He heard something. Off in the distance. Somehow it didn't belong here. He decided to ignore it.  
  
Smiled. Sister Magdellan's favorite warning. "No discordance allowed." He decided it would be his first rule for here.  
  
He felt a wet tongue on his cheek, licking joyfully at his face, a whine of pure love. He opened his eyes, surprised, happily so, to see Petey. He pulled him close, letting him wiggle happily in his arms. He'd missed the little dog, but hadn't thought it right to take him along on this trip. He didn't know how Petey had found him, but it made everything just a little more perfect. He laughed as Petey washed his face.  
  
There was that sound again. Louder. Much louder. He tried to ignore it again, but something was wrong.  
  
He frowned. The voices were back. Faint, but they were there. He didn't like that. He didn't need them any more. He concentrated, forced them out of his head. Hugged Petey a little closer, tried to relax once again, listening to the waterfall.  
  
The waterfall. He couldn't hear it any more. He opened his eyes, looked at the river. It had changed. It was drying up, drying up before his very eyes. He watched, dismayed, as it got smaller and smaller, until it was nothing more than a sluggish stream.  
  
What was happening? He looked around the forest, but the forest was gone, only stark poles of trunks left, dried and withered in the heat.  
  
Heat. Heat so intense he could feel it burning into his very soul. The heat of hell? Had he been cast out of heaven as well?  
  
The voices came back, persistent now. Persuading. Demanding. But not his voices. Not the voices that had kept him safe, that had loved him and encouraged him, had been his constant companions in the desert, keeping the shadows away at night in that tiny tiny trailer...  
  
Murdock.  
  
It sounded like Murdock. He couldn't talk to Murdock. Didn't want to talk to Murdock. Not now. Not here.  
  
He closed off the voice, forced himself back to the forest, to the mountains. Left Murdock. Left the voice that threatened...but he couldn't. Not all the way. Because the other voices were there now, calling him, making him come back, insisting he come back...but this was his time. This was his place. This was where he belonged.  
  
It had to be.  
  
He tried to get up, move away from them, away from their voices. Hannibal's voice. Charlie's voice. He didn't want those voices here, didn't want any voices here, didn't want anything but what had been. He pushed away the hands that tried to hold him, capture him. He crawled to the stream, and with relief felt the water, still cool, trickling over his body. Felt the heat withering away, felt the cool breeze again, felt the water rising, the soft rumble of the waterfall growing once more...  
  
*****  
  
"That's right, Ed, you stay with us now, you don't wanna go away now, we're here for ya, whatever you want, Ed, we gonna do it your way this time, don't you go away..."  
  
BA spoke softly, holding Face's head in his lap, gently bathing the hot skin with his water-soaked handkerchief. Murdock and Hannibal were wiping down his arms and chest, Charlie and Dr. Feist doing the same with his legs, dribbling the lukewarm water from their canteens, desperate to cool him down, calm him down.  
  
They'd moved swiftly when Murdock had called to them, when they, too, had seen that something, out there in the desert heat. The closer they came, the faster they moved, recognizing at last that it was a body, hoping and praying silently as they eventually broke into a run, Murdock reaching him first, rolling him over and calling to him, desperate for any response.  
  
He had gotten that response, finally, as Petey broke away from Charlie at last, and raced to his master, overjoyed. Face had moved as if to reach for the dog, failing miserably, but mumbling his name. Petey was obviously puzzled by the actions, and began licking frantically at his face. Hannibal and the others reached him almost simultaneously, and the confusion that ensued as they tried to bring him around nearly thwarted Dr. Feist's attempts to examine him. It was only when Face struggled to push them all away that BA took charge, telling them all to shut up, and immediately starting to talk to Face, his voice low and comforting. As Face began to relax once more, Dr. Feist told them what to do, and the water began its cool healing.  
  
The men worked in silence, only BA's voice going on and on in a near cadence. A few times one or the other would start to say something, and Face would immediately tense up, or try to push away their hands. They learned their lesson quickly, and it was only the worried looks that passed between them that told of their concern.  
  
Now that they had found him, how could they, five men on foot in the desert, save him?  
  
*****  
  
When Nick came up on the still smoldering wreckage, he felt physically ill. The team's van sat a safe distance from it, but empty of life. Leaving Decker, staring in confusion in the Jeep, he walked carefully past the black van, gingerly moving around the debris, some of it still hot from the explosion.  
  
What the hell had happened here?  
  
He moved past the destroyed ambulance, began slowly circling around the back of it. He searched the ground for some sign, a footprint, blood, cloth...anything. It was some distance away that he first found what he sought. Two separate sets of footprints, soon joined by others, until they mixed together and formed a trail.  
  
He followed the trail with his eyes, seeing that it followed the riverbed for some distance. It told him a world of information.  
  
Ed was alive. They were all alive, and Smith and Charlie and the others were following Ed. And Ed was obviously going to do whatever necessary to stop them.  
  
Nick hurried back to the Jeep. He paused long enough to pull the tape from Decker's mouth and let him drink. As soon as Decker started telling him what he was going to do to him and the team, the tape went back on. Moments later, Nick was maneuvering the Jeep along the slope of the river bank. He was thankful he had the Jeep; it could take terrain the van never would.  
  
As soon as they were safely past the ambulance and the possibility of having a tire punctured by the shrapnel surrounding it, Nick stepped on the gas. The footprints were so close together, it made a track a blind man could follow. He had to make a few small detours, when the tracks moved up the steep bank, when it disappeared in a stand of boulders, reappearing on the other side. He drove over the brush and smaller cacti, concentration bouncing from the footprints to the desert ahead, searching for any glimpse of the men themselves.  
  
He grew more and more concerned as the trail began wandering. Here and there he could tell that Charlie and the others had stopped to rest. He worried about Ed. Did he have enough water for wherever he was going? And where the hell was he going? What if Smith lost his trail? What if Nick lost Smith's trail?  
  
Nick glanced up at the sun above, moving slowly and determinedly toward the west.  
  
He stepped on the gas.


	66. Chapter 66

"Hannibal, what are we going to do? We're running out of water, and he's not cooling down."  
  
Murdock wrung his cap, which he'd been using to fan Face in a futile attempt to deflect the afternoon heat. He wished he had his jacket with him; at least that would've afforded Face some little shade. All they could do in that regard was use their own bodies in an attempt to shield him from the sun. Meanwhile, they continued to bathe him in the ever-warming water from their canteens in a desperate attempt to reduce the heat in his body.  
  
Hannibal shook his head, glancing down at Face, held gently now by Charlie. Face had quit struggling some time ago, and reacted to absolutely nothing that was said or done to him. Hannibal then looked at Dr. Feist, who was continuously monitoring his patient.  
  
"Doc?"  
  
Feist sighed. "He's not getting any worse, but I definitely don't like his vitals. We have to get him back to my office. Period."  
  
Hannibal nodded, frustrated and frankly, scared. All they could do was wait for BA to return with the van, but that could be hours yet. The sergeant had headed back as soon as he was sure Face wasn't going to die outright, carrying one of their few remaining full canteens. Hannibal was worried about him. Even though he'd given BA strict orders to pace himself, he knew BA would push himself as far as he dared, and the last thing Hannibal needed was another man down.  
  
"He'll be okay, Colonel." Charlie smiled oddly at Hannibal, gently wiping Ed's face while simultaneously rubbing Petey's head, inches from Ed's.  
  
"And how do you know, Charlie? Spiritual revelation?" Hannibal hated the sarcasm in his voice, but he hadn't the energy to suppress it. Some small part of him still blamed Charlie for all of this.  
  
Charlie kept smiling, not letting Hannibal goad him. "His friends, Hannibal. His voices. They won't let him go. They can't. It's their only way to survive."  
  
*****  
  
The Jeep hit yet another deep rut, and Decker's head snapped back. Nick winced in sympathy; the Colonel had definitely not had an easy ride here. But his prisoner's comfort had to take a back seat to the mission. Nick had a desperate feeling that time was running out fast.  
  
He glanced one more time at the compass on the dash. He was more than glad, now, of the mental discipline the Army had instilled in him. He had to keep track of their direction, and how far in each direction they'd gone. It would be vital if they were ever to find their way back from the desert.  
  
The longer they drove, the more worried Nick got, wanting speed but not daring to go too fast lest he lose the trail. His eyes were focused just in front of the Jeep, watching for any sudden turns. If it hadn't been for Decker's sudden muffled exclamation, he never would've seen the apparition rising over a small hill ahead.  
  
Even at this short distance, it was difficult to recognize the sergeant. It was obvious he'd been walking for some time; his entire being was coated in the fine dust that permeates everything in the deep desert. He was walking almost mechanically, and it took several shouts from Nick before he staggered to a stop and looked around, confused.  
  
"BA! Here!" Nick bounded out of the Jeep, stopping only to grab his canteen before racing up to BA, who was still looking confused and exhausted.  
  
"Nick? Where'd you come from, man?" His words were slurred, and he tried to lick his lips, grimacing distastefully.  
  
"Here, have a drink. Slowly..."  
  
BA glared at the warning before putting the canteen to his lips. Nevertheless, he did sip at the cool water, pausing to catch his breath before taking another longer drink. He sighed deeply as he poured some of the precious water over his face, then looked over at the Jeep.  
  
"Decker?"  
  
"Yeah. Look, where's Charlie? And the rest? Did you find Ed? We saw the wreck - what happened?"  
  
"Shut up, man." He took one last drink. "How far is the van from here?"  
  
"A few miles."  
  
"Okay, we'll go get that later. We gotta go back where I come from. Ed's not good."  
  
Nick didn't ask any more questions but followed BA back to the Jeep. BA took one look at the glaring captive, allowing himself an obvious smirk, and climbed into the back.  
  
"Let's go, man. I'll keep you on track. You jus drive."  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal glanced at his watch yet again. It was nearly four in the afternoon. Murdock had used up the last of their water a few minutes ago. Each man had taken one last drink, and, somewhat surprisingly, Hannibal had insisted that Charlie give Petey a palmful. The rest had gone to the seemingly useless task of reviving Ed. Dr. Feist confirmed that his body temperature seemed to be lower, but he still hadn't come to.  
  
Hannibal scouted the horizon in the direction BA had disappeared. He and Charlie had considered starting to move their whole party in that direction, hoping to meet up with BA on his return with the van. But neither Hannibal nor Charlie thought any of them would be able to carry Ed's dead weight in this heat. Hannibal wasn't sure any of them could carry their own weight at this point.  
  
He moved slowly, stiffly, silently changing places with Charlie, holding Ed's head in his lap, taking the almost dry rag from Murdock, wiping down the scars and the scratches and the heat...  
  
How had they come to this, him and his lieutenant? After all these years together, sharing so many things...how could they end up so far from each other? Strangers to one another, after all. If he was guilty of never seeing Face beneath the surface, wasn't the same to be said of Face? Did he really not know that his Colonel was exactly that - his? Did he really not understand that Hannibal would never turn his back on him? If only Face had given him some time, time to accept, time to adjust, he would have come around. But there hadn't been time. Face hadn't given him time. Just taken matters into his own hands, made decisions, not only for himself but for Hannibal, for the team.  
  
It wasn't fair.  
  
Hannibal hadn't been blameless. He should've talked to Face. Really talked. Let him talk. Made him talk. Made him say the things that frightened him. Saying them made them manageable. Made them workable. He should've made Face share the nightmares going on in his head. He should've had the strength to share those nightmares with Face, as he'd shared so many other horrors over the years.  
  
But that wasn't the way they did things, either of them. Never openly acknowledge their fears, or their hopes. Never admit there were chinks in the armor. Never say what each one meant to the other.  
  
Never be human. Being human meant failing, sometimes. They couldn't afford to fail. Couldn't afford to consider it.  
  
Failing could get one of them killed.  
  
He looked down at the now dry rag in his hand. At the head held in his lap, face so flushed with heat and exhaustion. A good face, scars and all, belonging to a man he'd always been proud to know, always would be proud to know.  
  
And, dammit, that man was going to live to know how proud Hannibal was of him. And not just because of what he could do for Hannibal, or the team.  
  
"Don't you dare give up on me, Kid. You're going to live. Understand? You're going to live, and you're going to find a new life, and you're going to be happy in it, you got me? You're going to live!"  
  
The whisper was fierce and strong. And Hannibal was sure, very sure, he saw a little flutter of his lieutenant's eyelid. Just a little.  
  
But Hannibal knew he'd heard, and understood, and would obey, if only this one last time.  
  
*****  
  
The Jeep bounced over one last rise, and BA stood up, grabbing the roll bar and pointing.  
  
"There! Straight ahead! Hurry up!"  
  
Nick could see in the distance a small dark mass. As the Jeep bounced over the rough terrain, the mass slowly distinguished itself, and he could see the men. Two stood up, looking at them, then started waving their arms. Nick bore down on the accelerator, nearly knocking BA out of the Jeep. Seconds later they were pulling to a fast stop a few yards from the group. Murdock and Charlie came staggering over, Petey racing ahead of them.  
  
"C'mon, Nick, we gotta get Face back to..." Murdock stopped, staring in horror at Decker.  
  
"Okay, okay, we'll get everyone in here somehow." Nick ignored the two, hurrying along with BA to Hannibal and the doctor, heart beating fast when he realized they were kneeling beside Ed.  
  
"Thank God, Nick. He's not good. We've got to..." Dr. Feist began a hurried explanation.  
  
"Yeah, doc, I know. Let's get him in the back. You guys get in first, you can hold on to him."  
  
Hannibal, Charlie and BA grabbed Face as gently as they could, but, in their own poor shape, staggered with the weight. Nick shook his head, frustrated. "Wait! You guys get in the back. I'll get him." Nick ran back to the Jeep, pulling his knife. With a couple quick jerks, he had Decker free from the seat. Ripping the tape from the colonel's mouth with some ferocity, he ignored the groan of pain.  
  
"C'mon, Decker, we got work to do." He pulled the captive from the Jeep and pushed him toward Face just as Hannibal walked up.  
  
For a brief moment, the two colonels stared at each other.  
  
"Peck's alive?"  
  
"Barely."  
  
Decker nodded, and was pushed past Hannibal. If Face's condition shocked him, he said nothing as he and Nick picked up the prostrate form. BA stood guard, making sure Decker did nothing to cause problems. Not that he intended to. The sooner they were out of this hell hole, the sooner he could try to get things under his control again.  
  
The sooner he'd get the A-Team in custody.  
  
All of them.


	67. Chapter 67

Nick and Charlie looked over the map, making quick calculations based on the Nick's recollections of his journey. If they were right, they were maybe an hour's cross-country drive from the village. With luck and caution, only an hour.  
  
In his confusion, Ed had pulled them all in a huge circle. They had been so intent on following his trail, and his trail had, at first, been so determinedly headed for the distant mountains, no one had noticed the gradual movement back around. Maybe they should've realized, when he'd started zigzagging, but then they'd been too intent on not losing him.  
  
An hour. Over some of the worst terrain in the area.  
  
Nick crumbled the map up and climbed into the Jeep, Charlie taking the seat vacated by Decker. The other men were crowded like sardines in the back, Hannibal and BA on the seat, holding Ed, Dr. Feist crunched between them and the front seats where he could monitor his patient, Murdock and Decker perched precariously on the wheel housings. Charlie kept Petey on the floor in front of him, held tight by his leash. With a precautionary glance back, Nick put the Jeep in gear and tore off across the desert.  
  
Only an hour.  
  
If the drive itself didn't kill them all, they might just have a chance.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock was having a hard time hanging on. And not to the Jeep.  
  
With every bounce of the Jeep, everyone grimaced or grunted. Everyone except Face. He never moved, not voluntarily, at least. Just...so still.  
  
So still.  
  
Murdock couldn't bear the thought that he might lose this man. Face was too important to him. Like a brother, more than a brother, a soulmate. He kept Murdock going. Always had. Even those first few weeks in Nam, when the LT had been so green he practically needed mowing. Murdock had been there a lot longer, and yet it was Face that kept his calm, kept his faith that things would work out in the end. If it hadn't been for that, Murdock wouldn't have lasted as long as he did.  
  
Face always knew what Murdock needed. Always.  
  
But when the tables were turned, when Face needed something from Murdock, from the team, none of them could give it to him. Murdock had tried. He really had. But nothing he did seemed to work. He'd given Face elbow room, given him support, tried to help him find his way, but Face had rebuffed his every effort.  
  
Murdock didn't know what to do. How to help.  
  
Helpless. Helpless to save his friend, helpless to save himself. He was falling, falling into that abyss again and there was no Face to save him this time. They were falling together, and Murdock knew neither of them would come out of it this time, no way they could survive this time, they were doomed, doomed together, they couldn't make it, not by themselves, only together, but they weren't together because Face was dead and only Ed remained and Ed didn't want Murdock and Murdock didn't want Ed, not really, not truly, Murdock wanted Face, only Face, his best bud, his friend, his savior, he wanted...  
  
"Murdock!"  
  
He looked up, saw Hannibal glaring at him. Gulped.  
  
"Stay with us, Captain. Understand? You stay with us, or God help me..."  
  
Murdock tightened his grip on the Jeep, tightened his grip on his mind.  
  
"Understood, Sir!"  
  
Hannibal glared for another moment, then smiled sadly and nodded. Went back to looking after the lieutenant.  
  
With a man down, now was not the time to lose it.  
  
Murdock always brought them back.  
  
Always.  
  
*****  
  
Decker watched the exchange between Murdock and Smith with interest. He had caught the vacant look on Murdock's face, but hadn't realized the significance until Smith spoke. It made him think about the pilot. All these years, he'd been convinced Murdock was faking things, taking advantage of the VA's gullible doctors in order to work with the team without seeming to. He'd known full well Smith considered Murdock his ace in the hole, but Decker had never been able to prove it. Not to the satisfaction of his superiors.  
  
Until now.  
  
But if this little exchange were any indication, Murdock wasn't as stable as Decker had thought. Certainly more sane than the VA thought, but not out of the woods. Definitely not out of the woods. Or was it just Peck that was causing this?  
  
He looked down at the lieutenant. Not the pretty boy he had once been, not by a damn sight. The result of that accident, the one that had caused him to supposedly throw himself off that cliff? Had to be. Those scars were long healed now. But why the fake suicide? There was no way Smith or the others knew it was a fake. They'd stayed around too long for that, been way too visible. So why? And where had Peck been all this time? Out here, with these desert freaks? And why this run out into the desert? Had it finally gotten to him? Had he really made a serious, no-holds-barred attempt at killing himself?  
  
That was not Peck. Decker hadn't wanted to believe it before, and he couldn't believe it now. There had to be some other explanation.  
  
Had to be.  
  
Because if it was true...  
  
Decker looked from Peck to Murdock, back again. Then at Smith, Baracus.  
  
They hardly looked like the crack commando team he'd been chasing all these years.  
  
Just a bunch of broken, scared men.  
  
Decker looked around at the desert flying by them, the Jeep bouncing and sliding as Nick forced it into as straight a line as possible. Trying to save Peck. Desperate to save him. Nick, and that Charlie character.  
  
Why? What was Peck to them? They couldn't have known him that long. Why put themselves out like this?  
  
None of it made sense.  
  
Decker scowled, bringing his gaze back to the prone figure and the men around him.  
  
He had a lot of thinking to do.  
  
*****  
  
BA held on to Face's legs, tight, not too tight, enough to keep him from bouncing off as the Jeep tore across the ground. He watched as Hannibal gripped the shoulders, holding Face's head against his chest. BA knew Hannibal was daring God to try and take his man. Hannibal would fight the devil himself when it came to one of his own. BA took a different tack - he was praying as hard as he ever had, as hard as he had back in Nam.  
  
He looked at Murdock. Ever since Hannibal had brought him up short, the pilot had seemed to gather himself together again. How long he could last, BA wasn't sure. He knew if Face died, Murdock was lost. There'd be no coming back for him then.  
  
But Face wasn't going to die. BA wouldn't let himself even think that, not now. Not when they were so close. He didn't know what would happen afterward, what Face would do, what Hannibal would do, where any of them would end up, but they were going to at least have a future to decide that.  
  
All of them, dammit. All of them.  
  
He adjusted his grip, tried to hold the body as steady as he could. He looked up, noticing immediately that the Jeep was slowing down. They were coming over a hill. BA looked over the shoulders of the men in front as the Jeep began descending into a valley.  
  
A valley, with the village now in sight.


	68. Chapter 68

Hannibal stepped out of Dr. Feist's surgery, shoulders slumped. He fumbled in his pocket for a cigar, noting absently that his hand shook. He didn't have time to look for a light; a hand suddenly appeared, match flaring in the darkness. Hannibal looked up, startled, and saw a stranger's face in front of him. The man smiled, held the match up, and waited until Hannibal had taken a long first drag.  
  
"How is he doing?"  
  
Hannibal hesitated only a moment. "So far, so good. It'll take some time, but the doc thinks he'll make it."  
  
The man smiled even more. "Good. Very good." With a nod, he moved back into the darkness, and Hannibal could make out other figures gather around him. Moments later, they all drifted silently away.  
  
Hannibal stood still, cigar smoke drifting up into the air. These people still puzzled him. Pollyanna's, he called them. Well, maybe that wasn't so bad. From the moment the Jeep had roared through the village, they had gathered in vigil around the doctor's cabin, waiting for some word, offering encouragement.  
  
Remarkable.  
  
Murdock and BA were at the cabin. Hannibal had had to order them there, after the doc had given them a quick once-over. Cold showers, bed rest. That's an order, Sergeant, Captain. As good a Colonel-glare as he could muster, for good measure.  
  
It was a testament to their ordeal, emotional and physical, that they had both complied without question. That, and the villagers again, walking with the two exhausted men, making sure they got home okay. And Murdock and BA had let them. If Hannibal hadn't been close to exhaustion himself, it would've worried him.  
  
He didn't have energy to worry any more.  
  
"Just call me Scarlet," he'd thought, watching them walk away.  
  
He looked around, up at the night sky. It was so cool, so clear, now. How could it have been such hell before? It didn't seem possible. He thought about the past twenty-four hours.  
  
A lifetime.  
  
Now, though far from feeling refreshed, he at least felt relaxed. Ed was out of danger, IV's pushing fluids into his body, wet cloths covering his body while fans blew over him. Feist had said it would be at least three or four days before Ed was out of the woods, but he was "cautiously optimistic". Hannibal thought about that over-used phrase. It usually meant the patient would be okay, but the doctors wanted to cover their asses, just in case. Hannibal took it to mean Ed would be okay.  
  
Okay. Whatever the hell that meant.  
  
His men were taken care of, Nick had taken Charlie and the dog in hand, and now Hannibal had one last task before he could rest.  
  
Decker.  
  
Somehow or another, he had to strike a bargain with Decker, offer him something that would allow Murdock to go back to the VA, where he'd be safe.  
  
Something that would allow Ed to stay here in the village, unmolested.  
  
Where he belonged.  
  
*****  
  
When the Jeep had rolled to a stop, Nick had motioned to some of the men gathering, and told them they needed to keep Decker "on ice" for a while. The three men who had come forward had been firm, but polite, the looks on their faces saying they expected him to go with them. Period. Had Decker resisted, he wasn't sure what might have happened.  
  
The FBI agents - the real FBI agents - had told him about Charlie and this village of his. Totally self-sufficient, paying their taxes and otherwise wanting nothing to do with the government, not expecting or demanding any services. They just wanted to be left alone.  
  
He'd run into people like that before. Silent, stubborn, and they almost always did what they intended to do. They just waited everyone out. Well, Decker wasn't in the business of hassling civilians. In the meantime, being shown a comfortable cabin with a shower, and later, a tasty meal brought to the door, made up for a lot. He was content to ignore the guards outside, for now.  
  
He wandered to the window, where he could look down the way to the doctor's cabin. He wondered how Peck was doing. He hadn't looked good, at all. Decker really hoped he would be okay. And, strangely, not just so he could have the pleasure of throwing his ass in the brig. He actually felt some pity for the man - like one felt for a dog that'd been hit by a car.  
  
But there was something about the way the people of this little enclave acted toward Peck.  
  
He'd watched them gathering around the doctor's cabin, realizing the job he'd have ahead of him. Between tours in-country, he'd dealt with these little communes. Raids, looking for deserters. Some of them weren't as "peaceful" as they claimed, but others, like this one, were definitely into passive resistance. Funny. Those were the ones where they never seemed to ferret out the errant soldiers. Because no one said a word. No one resisted. Just stood silently around the soldiers, getting in the way, moving only when moved. And yet somehow, the Army's quarry seemed to just...disappear.  
  
That didn't worry Decker now. The war was long over, and once these people knew Smith and his team were real criminals, he was confident they would turn them over to the military. They didn't seem to be the kind that wanted any trouble of any kind.  
  
Smith came out of the doctor's office now, and Decker watched the interaction with the people who'd been waiting outside. They had been concerned about Smith and the others, but it was obvious their real worry had been Peck.  
  
Strange.  
  
How had Peck bought them off? How had he convinced them to let "Edward Mordake" stay here, and play the eccentric hermit? He had to offer them something...  
  
That Sinon outfit? No, that had all started before Peck arrived. Although, when he thought about the information this Charlie guy had turned over to the FBI, Decker had no doubts as to where it had originally come from. Not now, anyway. It was the kind of thing Peck was best at, worming information out of places he had no business going. But he'd been accepted here long before all that shit happened.  
  
No, he may be able to get Smith, Baracus and Murdock out of here, but until he knew what hold Peck had over these people, there was no way they'd let him go. Just like those CO's from years ago, he would just disappear until the military left.  
  
He was still staring out the window when he saw what could be the answer to everything.  
  
Hannibal Smith, worn and exhausted, heading for this cabin.  
  
Decker smiled.  
  
*****  
  
"BA?"  
  
"Yeah, Murdock?"  
  
"What do you think Hannibal's gonna do about Decker?"  
  
"Dunno. He'll come up with somethin. Always does."  
  
"Yeah." Murdock lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling. He was bone-tired, and wanted to sleep, but he couldn't. He wanted to be down at the doc's, looking after Face, but he couldn't move. And he needed something else, too, but he wasn't sure if BA could give it to him.  
  
"BA?"  
  
He heard BA sigh. "Yeah, Murdock..."  
  
"You think Hannibal will fix it so I can go back? To the VA, I mean?"  
  
"Y'need ta go back, do ya?"  
  
"I...I don't know. I think I might. Things are getting kinda...wobbly, y'know?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Murdock heard BA moving around. A moment later, he felt BA sit down beside him on the bed.  
  
"Listen, Murdock. I need you to hang on, jus a little longer, okay? We all do. An' then we'll git you some help, one way or 'nother. But you gotta hang on for now. Can you do that?"  
  
"I don't know, BA. All this stuff going on...I mean, what if Face..."  
  
"Face is gonna be fine. Doc said so. But you go off the deep end, jus gonna make it harder on him. Look, just try to keep it together for a couple more days, jus till Face is up and around again. I'll help ya, man, and so will Hannibal. Just a couple more days."  
  
"O-Okay, BA. I think I can do that. Yeah. I can do that."  
  
"Good." BA clapped him on the shoulder, squeezed. "Good."  
  
Murdock heard BA go back to his own bed, and a few minutes later heard the soft snoring. He closed his eyes, wishing for sleep.  
  
Wishing he could go home.  
  
*****  
  
"You sure you don't want to wait until morning, Colonel? You could use some sleep."  
  
Hannibal smiled at the man standing guard in front of the cabin. "No, I need to take care of this first. Thanks."  
  
Nodding doubtfully, the guard unlocked the door, and Hannibal stepped in.  
  
Decker was waiting, sitting calmly on the couch, a grim smile on his face. Hannibal looked around the cabin. It was nearly empty, save a few pieces of furniture. He realized, with a start, that it must be the one Cal had left.  
  
Ironic.  
  
He looked back at Decker, who had now gotten up from the couch and stepped forward.  
  
"Decker."  
  
"Smith. Quite the little kingdom here, isn't it? You seem to have a very cozy relationship with the inmates."  
  
"It's a nice place, Decker. And nice people. They have nothing to do with you and me."  
  
"They're harboring fugitives, Smith. Or don't they know that?"  
  
"Let's forget the villagers for now, Decker. You and I have other matters to discuss."  
  
"Yeah, like the resurrected lieutenant? How is he, anyway? Another miraculous recovery?"  
  
"He's going to be okay. For now. I want him to stay that way."  
  
"I have a job to do, Smith. Taking the A-Team into custody. All four of you." Decker emphasized the "four".  
  
"Doing that single-handed might be a problem, Decker. And by the time you got back here with reinforcements, well..."  
  
"Oh, I don't think I have to worry about that, Smith. I have bargaining power, y'see. A whole little commune's worth."  
  
Hannibal straightened. "What are you talking about, Decker? I already told you these people don't have anything to..."  
  
"I know what you said, Smith. But you're here. That's all I need. I'm sure the civilian authorities would be very interested in seeing what other 'undesirables' might be hiding out here. What odd little activities might be going on."  
  
"You'd set them up?"  
  
"Let's just say the DEA, customs, ATF, and, oh, yeah, the IRS - they could all get some interesting tips as to questionable activities around this area."  
  
"You can't be serious."  
  
"Oh, I'm very serious, Smith. Very serious. I take you in, or your friends here get a taste of their government in action." Decker sat back on the couch, smiled with a glint in his eyes. "You think about it, Smith. Take all the time you want. I'm in no rush."  
  
Hannibal glared at him for a moment before he slammed his way out of the cabin.


	69. Chapter 69

Charlie woke just as the sun was coming up. It streamed into his bedroom, mother nature's alarm clock. He stayed in bed for a few minutes longer, savoring the soft glow and gentle warmth coming in the window. Sighing, he thought of the things waiting for him today, and forced himself stiffly out of bed.  
  
He wandered through the cabin, intent on making the strongest coffee he could manage. He glanced idly around, wondering what time Nick had finally gone home. He smiled softly. Nick had been so full of energy last night...despite the seriousness of the situation, the once-reserved woodworker had been as excited as a school kid at his 'adventure'.  
  
Charlie stopped, his hand reaching for the coffeemaker. Smith and his crew seemed to have cast a spell of some sort over Nick. Was that good, or bad? Charlie liked to see his younger friend finally excited about something; it had been years since he'd allowed himself to get involved in anything other than chunks of wood. Almost like he was doing penance. But this sort of activity? Charlie shook his head, and started making the coffee. He would have to have a long talk with Nick, and soon.  
  
Once the coffeemaker started its gurgling brew, Charlie moved to the front of the house, his habit to look out on the village before the people started their daily routines, to think about how lucky he was. It always gave him a positive start to the day, reminding himself of his good fortune. Today, however, his view was disrupted.  
  
Colonel Smith was asleep in the hammock on his porch.  
  
For a moment, Charlie's heart almost stopped, thinking something had happened to Ed. No, Feist would've called him if that were the case. He'd felt terribly guilty, leaving last night. But Nick had convinced him that somebody had to get a good night's sleep if they were to deal rationally with the myriad of problems facing them this day. Charlie, seeing the frown on Smith's sleeping face, was glad now he had listened.  
  
A few minutes later, he carried two steaming cups of coffee out to the porch. Placing them carefully on the table, he shook the hammock gently. Smith opened his eyes immediately, saw Charlie, and struggled out of the hammock.  
  
"Good morning, Colonel. I take it we have things to discuss?"  
  
Hannibal rubbed his face, accepting the coffee gratefully.  
  
"Yeah, Charlie. I need a favor from you. A big favor."  
  
Charlie shrugged. "After all you've done for us, just ask, Colonel."  
  
"I want you to let Murdock stay here, with Face...Ed. And I want you to make sure that if he needs help, he'll get it."  
  
Charlie stared at Smith. "That implies a few things, Colonel. One, obviously, that you're willing to let Ed stay here."  
  
"It's where he's happy, Charlie. Where he belongs. I was...selfish, not to accept that before."  
  
Charlie nodded. He would not gloat; obviously it was a painful decision for Smith to make.  
  
"And you don't want to take the captain with you and Baracus? I find that surprising."  
  
Hannibal shook his head. "We couldn't take care of him when he needed it. I can't take a chance on losing him because we were on the run when he needed counseling, or medications." Hannibal set the coffee cup down on the table, staring at it. "And I won't be taking BA with me, either. I'm afraid he's going to have to find his own way from here on out. I imagine he'll head back to Chicago, where his family is."  
  
Charlie frowned. "Have you talked to him about this? He's agreed?"  
  
"No, he doesn't know about it yet. That's another part of the favor. I need you and Nick to provide a diversion for me. Something to get BA out of here for a couple of days. After Ed's recovered, of course. I know he won't go anywhere until then, but..."  
  
"Just a minute, Hannibal. What do you have in mind here? Ed, I can understand. Even Murdock, now that the VA's out of the question. But the sergeant?"  
  
Hannibal moved to the edge of the porch. Pulling a cigar, he stood for a moment before answering.  
  
"I talked to Decker last night. He's got me by the short hairs, Charlie. I think I've come up with something that will keep my men safe, relatively speaking. A compromise I think he'll take. But the only way it will work is if BA is out of the picture."  
  
"What sort of compromise?" Charlie wasn't liking the direction this conversation was going. Not one bit.  
  
"Decker wants the team behind bars. He knows, of course, that we wouldn't go quietly. But I know what he really wants. And that's what I'm going to give him." Hannibal turned and faced Charlie. "In exchange for leaving my men alone, he gets me. No tricks, no escapes. He gets to see the 'great' Hannibal Smith behind bars, and he'll get all the credit for putting him there."  
  
"Hannibal, you can't..."  
  
"Yeah, I can, Charlie. After everything these guys have gone through, following my lead, it's time. Time they were all given some peace of mind. Time they can quit running. Besides...," Hannibal chuckled ruefully, "there's no way I'll be behind bars for twenty years."  
  
"They won't stand for it."  
  
"They won't know. Not until it's too late. BA's the only one left who could even consider breaking me out, and without Face and Murdock, he won't be able to try."  
  
"He wouldn't try to involve them?"  
  
"No way. As much as he cares about his colonel, he'd never jeopardize them. And he knows I'd never want him to." Hannibal finally lit his cigar, puffing slowly on it. "So, what do you say, Charlie? Will you take care of my boys for me?"  
  
Charlie swallowed. All the negative thoughts he'd had about Colonel John Smith now shamed him.  
  
"I'd be proud to, Colonel. I'd be proud to."  
  
*****  
  
Murdock woke when he heard BA moving about in the kitchen. For just a moment, he couldn't remember where he was, thinking it odd that BA was at the VA so early. Then everything came back, and he jerked up to a sitting position, making his head spin.  
  
"Shit..."  
  
"You okay, Fool?" BA stood in the doorway, scowling.  
  
"Yeah. Just a little dizzy." He closed his eyes, willing the swimming in his head to go away. "We gotta go see Ed."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, after breakfast. I ain't havin you get sick cause you didn't eat."  
  
"BA..."  
  
"I said, after breakfast."  
  
Murdock glared at his retreating back, then quickly got dressed and hurried out to the kitchen. He looked around, noting only two places set at the table. "Hannibal?"  
  
"Didn't come back last night. Prob'ly slept at the doc's place." BA glanced over at him. "If anythin happened, he'd'a let us know."  
  
"Yeah..." Murdock wasn't entirely convinced, but, knowing BA, he sat and ate without wolfing down the food. BA would let him go when BA was damn good and ready, and not before. Murdock did notice, however, that BA ate just a tad faster than normal...  
  
The two men hurried down toward Dr. Feist's cabin a few minutes later. The village was already wide awake and active, but it seemed as though every person they saw had to stop them and ask after Ed. It was humbling as well as frustrating.  
  
As they made their way past the last group of well-wishers, Murdock couldn't help but think how great it was that Ed had found this place. Now, if only Hannibal would let him stay here...  
  
BA knocked at the doctor's door, and it was opened almost immediately by Feist himself. He smiled, although he looked tired.  
  
"Welcome, gentlemen. Ed's doing much better this morning, but, I must caution you, he's still weak. His temperature is stable, only slightly elevated..."  
  
The two men followed him in, listening to the litany with relief. Murdock liked Dr. Feist. Liked the fact that he'd ask how Murdock was doing without that look on his face.  
  
Kinda like Dr. Richter.  
  
A lot like Dr. Richter...  
  
*****  
  
Charlie watched as Colonel Smith came out of the cabin where Decker was being held. He had a grim look on his face, but satisfied. Apparently Decker had agreed to Smith's compromise.  
  
Charlie squinted in the afternoon sun. He couldn't let Smith go through with this wild-ass scheme, but he didn't know how to stop him, either. And he had given his word to take care of Ed and Murdock. It would be hard to do that if Decker put them in jail.  
  
Shit.  
  
He looked up and down the village path. Nick was supposed to be coming to meet him. While Charlie had promised not to say anything about Smith's plan to the team, he fudged a bit when it came to not telling "anyone". He didn't consider Nick just anyone, after all. And Nick was the only one who could possibly help him come up with a solution.  
  
Charlie sighed. A few years ago, he wouldn't have needed anybody's help. He had the energy and the clarity to handle whatever came his way. Too many complacent years out here. Hell, too many years running from the kind of trouble Smith and his people had brought with them. He'd hated the intrigue and the politics and the violence, wanted nothing more to do with it all, and here he was, stuck right damn in the middle of it.  
  
"Hey, Charlie! Doc says Ed's going to be fine. He's really making progress. Great news, huh? Have you talked to Smith? God, I hope he'll let Ed stay on here without any more trouble. Though I have to admit, I'm kinda getting to like the guy. He's not as gung-ho as I thought at first. Guy's a thinker, not just a fighter. Yeah, I think..."  
  
"Nick! Nick, slow down, will you? I have something to talk to you about. I need your help. Colonel Smith needs our help."


	70. Chapter 70

"You sure you want to go through with this, Charlie?"  
  
"Yes, Nick, I'm sure."  
  
Nick looked at him, concerned. Charlie had had a hell of a time making that first phone call to his former colonel, now a general, at the Pentagon. Charlie hadn't talked to the man for so long...the last time was a few months after Cody's death. And the only reason the man had gone along with Charlie's plan was because the situation invovlved the possibility of civilian injuries.  
  
This time was different...  
  
"I thought our business was concluded, Charlie. I took care of your little...problem. At least, as far as I know from the reports filed." The general's voice crackled over the phone line.  
  
"That you did, General, and I appreciate it. But I have one more little 'problem' that you can help me with. And, if things go the way I'm hoping they will, you won't have to do anything more than make a few phone calls. But I need to be able to use your name, and know that it will fly."  
  
"You 'just' need to make me the target, you mean. I'm not sure I'm ready to do that again, Charlie."  
  
"Again? You were hardly a target the last time, Harley. You followed protocol all the way."  
  
"It wasn't my job to interfere at all. I had to move in very carefully, Charlie, and more than one eyebrow was raised at the intrusion. I'm too close to retirement to take unnecessary chances."  
  
"You don't do me this one last favor, Harley, and you won't have to worry about retirement. You'll be lucky if you keep your stars." Charlie went for the throat. "You owe me, General. For Cody. Now you're going to pay, in full. A life for a life."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Tomorrow morning, you're going to call for the personnel file of a certain Colonel Rod Decker. That's all. Hold on to it for a few days, and then send it back."  
  
"That's all?" The general's voice was hard, suspicious.  
  
"Just about. You're also going to call a few people along Decker's chain of command. Just a casual inquiry into his performance. Just enough to make people take notice, not enough to make them nervous."  
  
"There's got to be more to it than that."  
  
"Only if Colonel Decker is dumber than I think he is. If that's the case, I'll call you. And you'll make sure the man never gets past the front gate of another military installation for as long as he lives."  
  
There was silence on the other end of the phone. "You want me to destroy a man's career, just on your say so?"  
  
"Payback's a bitch, General. If I call you, and you don't come through, it'll be your career in the crapper. Your name will be on the front page of every newspaper in the country. And it won't be a pleasant experience."  
  
Another heavy silence. "This better be the last time, Charlie. I do what you ask, don't ever call me again. You do, and I'll take you down, if I have to go right along with you. I won't be blackmailed any more."  
  
"Don't worry, General. This is the last time I want to get this close to the stench of the Pentagon."  
  
Both men had slammed their phones down. Charlie had spent the rest of the evening finishing off the new bottle of Scotch...  
  
Nick scratched the back of his hand, nervously.  
  
"If he thinks you're bluffing..."  
  
"He'll find out I'm not. All it will take is one phone call." Charlie sighed. He made it sound much easier than it really was, and they both knew it.  
  
"And then you lose your ace in the hole."  
  
"Not much of a loss, anyway, Nick." Charlie grinned at Nick. "Actually, this might be kinda fun."  
  
"Fun? Extorting an Army colonel is fun? Geez, Charlie..."  
  
"Oh, don't worry about it, Nick. After all, it's for a good cause. And, quite frankly, I like the idea of getting a little of my own back against a stuff-shirt officer." A steely glint came into Charlie's eye. "Yeah, I think Decker's going to find out he's bitten off a little more than he can chew."  
  
"Are you sure you don't want Hannibal in on this? I mean, they are his men, after all."  
  
"No, Smith would put the kibosh on it before I even had a chance. I know this will work, Nick. I just have to be reasonable, not push him too far."  
  
"I doubt he'll see it as reasonable, no matter what you ask."  
  
"No, probably not, but...he'll get over it." Charlie grinned again.  
  
Nick just shook his head. Sometimes, Charlie could be just a little out of control...  
  
*****  
  
BA sat in the corner, studying the latest Popular Mechanics, pleasantly surprised that Feist even had one. Murdock was at the desk, methodically taping tongue depressors together into stick men. Hannibal sat next to the bed, pretending to read a book, but dividing his attention between Ed's breathing and Murdock's taping. Neither one made him happy.  
  
Dr. Feist had said Ed's breathing problems weren't unexpected, only a slight setback. Ed now had an oxygen mask on, to make it easier. Feist seemed confident he'd be able to get rid of that in another day, maybe two.  
  
Hannibal kept telling himself Feist was a competent doctor, who undoubtedly had treated heat illnesses many, many times before. And then he'd listen to the rasping from the bed, waiting for a change.  
  
Murdock was another story. He seemed to take Ed's problems in stride; if Feist said he would be okay, that was all Murdock needed. But he kept taping, and taping, and taping. The longer Hannibal watched him, the more he realized that Murdock was trying desperately to keep things together. Concentrating on those stick men was one way to do that.  
  
Hannibal stood up. It was time to broach the subject of Murdock's living arrangements. Hopefully, Hannibal's arrangement with Charlie would be enough to reassure the pilot. He'd already had a long talk with Dr. Feist, during those early morning hours as they waited to see what Ed's fate would be. Dr. Feist, being the only doctor for miles around, was not ignorant of psychiatric medications or techniques, but he did express some doubts. It was only after Hannibal assured him that Murdock's old doctor would be willing to advise him that Feist agreed to taking on his new patient.  
  
Hannibal only hoped he hadn't lied about Richter. He didn't think he had.  
  
He turned around the corner of the cabin, unwilling to be under Decker's gaze as he talked to Murdock. The less contact any of them had with Decker between now and...the departure, the better he liked it. He wouldn't put it past Decker to say something, hint at something, just to make trouble.  
  
"What's up, Colonel?" Murdock came around the corner, curious and just a little anxious.  
  
"Sit down, Murdock. I have a proposition for you. Something I think will suit you - and Ed - just fine..."  
  
Hannibal sat down beside Murdock and started explaining his plan. He didn't see Charlie enter Decker's cabin, or Nick standing guard just outside.  
  
*****  
  
Decker looked up, surprised to see who his visitor was.  
  
"Well, well. If it isn't the omnipotent Charlie. Should I bow, sir, or..."  
  
"Cut the shit, Decker. We've got business to discuss."  
  
Decker's eyes narrowed. So he wanted to play that way, did he?  
  
"I talked to Smith. Frankly, Decker, I'm surprised at your tactics."  
  
"Oh? I'm surprised Smith would tell you about it. He's not the confiding type. But as long as you understand, I have nothing against your people. It was strictly business."  
  
Charlie looked at Decker, suspiciously. He wasn't sure he believed Decker held no grudge against Nick, but he was willing to let it pass. His arrangement with Decker would include Nick, anyway.  
  
"Well, I'm here to strike a new bargain with you. One that I'm quite sure you won't like, but that I'm equally certain you will agree to."  
  
Decker straightened. "Oh? And what makes you think I'm willing to make any agreements with you? Smith and I have already..."  
  
"That is now null and void, Colonel. You're not dealing with Smith any more. You're dealing with me."  
  
"Guess I got you a little upset, huh? Well, you're not playing with a bunch of artists, any more, Charlie. I made the price high, because it was the only way Smith would agree to it."  
  
"I didn't think a colonel in the military would sink so low as to use two sick men as bait, Decker."  
  
Decker actually laughed.  
  
"You think that's what Smith's price was? God, he didn't tell you, did he? Well, that changes things. And you may want to reconsider whatever 'bargain' you had in mind."  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"Smith wasn't bargaining just for those two remnants. He was bargaining for your village, Charlie. The whole kit and caboodle. He turns himself in, and I don't set your little kingdom up for one government investigation after another."  
  
"What?" Charlie was dumfounded. He'd never considered that the village would be in jeopardy.  
  
"Yeah, guess Smith was keeping his own counsel, after all. Well, now that you know, I think you can understand why I'm not impressed with the idea of dealing with you. I think you're on a short stack there, Charlie."  
  
Charlie glared at Decker. He hadn't intended to actually use his secret weapon yet, if at all, but Decker threatening the village and its people had pushed him over the top. He pulled a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and dropped it on the couch beside Decker.  
  
"That's where you're wrong, Colonel. You're about to go bust..."  
  
*****  
  
"What do you think, Murdock? Are you willing to give it a try?"  
  
Murdock stared out into space, thinking. On the one hand, it was the perfect solution. He'd have a place to live where he could be free, and still have support when he needed it. And he'd be with Ed. On the other hand, would Ed want him here? And what happened if things got really bad? Would Dr. Feist be able to handle it? Would the villagers be willing to put up with his...eccentricities?  
  
"It's, uh, kind of a scary idea, Hannibal."  
  
"Yeah, I can understand where it would be, Murdock. But Dr. Feist will know how to reach...us." Hannibal told himself it wasn't really a lie. "And I think Ed would feel more comfortable socializing if you were here with him."  
  
"Well, see, that's a problem. What if he doesn't want me here? I mean, what if he thinks I'm just going to try and get Face back?"  
  
"I already talked to Charlie about that. He's agreed to keep you on your toes in that respect, and he'll talk to Ed about it, too. If Ed ever starts feeling that you're pressuring him, he can let Charlie know. And you don't have to worry about the villagers. Charlie says they've had more than a few 'anomalies' show up over the years. By and large, there've been no objections."  
  
Murdock sat still, looking at the ground. He sighed, looked up at Hannibal.  
  
"You two got it all figured out then, huh?"  
  
"It's all up to you, Murdock. Yea or nay, your choice."  
  
"I can stay as long as I want?"  
  
"As long as you want."  
  
"And I can still go on missions with you guys, if I want to?"  
  
Hannibal looked skeptically at him. "I thought you didn't like going on missions?"  
  
"Well, no, but..."  
  
"Murdock, you won't lose the team, any more than Ed will. If there's a mission, you'll be asked to come along. Asked, not expected. Again, yea or nay, Murdock."  
  
"Man, Hannibal, I don't know if I can handle having all these choices. I mean...geez..."  
  
Hannibal laughed. "It's about time you actually had some choices, Captain. All of you." He sobered for just a moment before forcing a grin. "So what do you say, Murdock? Home, sweet home?"  
  
Murdock grinned back. "Yessir, Colonel. Home, sweeeeeet home!"  
  
*****  
  
Charlie had walked out of the door before Decker had a real chance to react. He was still staring at the piece of paper, Charlie's last words echoing in his head.  
  
"The village is off limits. Its inhabitants are off limits. When we have visitors, they are off limits. Any breach within ten miles of this place, and I will place a call. Your career will be over. You'll be lucky if they let you stay in the Army to sweep out the messhall. Think I'm bluffing, Decker? Lay one hand on Smith or anyone else here, and that man there gets a call from me. And believe me, you don't want to know what he can do to you!"  
  
Looking at the name on the paper, Decker understood how things in Glendale had fallen apart. He'd never be able to prove anything, of course. Everything the General had done had been according to military protocol. Perhaps a bit too much, but still within bounds. And any information leak would never be traced to him.  
  
Decker looked around the cabin, frustrated and angry. He'd had Smith, goddammit! He'd had him right where he belonged, and now...  
  
The guard outside stepped to the window, looking in, concerned, when he heard the crash. Shook his head at the site of the chair, splintered against the far wall.  
  
Military types...


	71. EPILOGUE

_"I am beginning to learn that it is the sweet, simple things of life which are the real ones after all." -- Laura Ingalls Wilder_

  
  
The sun was shining brightly through the bushes as it crept over the horizon. He listened to the mutterings and pings and bangs emanating from the yard, and smiled.  
  
BA need never worry about Murdock taking over as mechanic.  
  
He rose, and softly stepped over to the window, where he could watch Murdock without disturbing him. He shook his head, watching the former pilot struggling with the ancient pickup truck. Ed had tried to warn him that it was a piece of junk, but nothing can deter a man who's fallen in love, whether it be with a woman or a vehicle.  
  
He sobered when he remembered why Murdock was fussing with the truck. It was Tuesday. Tuesday was Breakfast with Charlie Day. That was okay. But it was also errand day. The day they got their mail and groceries, and had lunch at the little coffee shop.  
  
Tuesday was the day he had to face all the villagers.  
  
Not that they caused him any problems. No one stared, or gasped, or laughed. The children didn't even run from him. Quite the contrary. Everyone wanted to stop and chat.  
  
But he kept waiting for it to happen.  
  
Nonsense. They all love you. Just like we do. Well, almost. No one loves you like we do...  
  
"Ed?"  
  
He turned, embarrassed. He knew Murdock accepted his friends, although he didn't always agree with the things they said. But he still felt funny when Murdock caught them talking.  
  
"It's okay, Ed." Murdock smiled, reassuring. "You want to get dressed sometime today?"  
  
"You got it running?"  
  
"Sure! Always do."  
  
Ed sighed. This was always the hard part. Getting out the door, into the truck.  
  
"C'mon, Ed. Charlie's waiting. It'll be okay. It always is."  
  
"I know." He nodded at Murdock and headed into the shower. He still wasn't sure he liked the new trailer. It seemed huge and cumbersome compared to his old place. But the old one wasn't big enough for two people.  
  
He was still trying to get used to that, too. And there was no way he would let Murdock talk him into getting a place in the village itself.  
  
No way.  
  
Once in a while, Murdock would put a little too much pressure on Ed to do things. But they were working things out. Murdock went into the village a lot. He had a lot of friends there, people he could "jibber jabber" to and they didn't mind one bit. And that allowed Ed plenty of time to roam the desert with Petey, and find his treasures.  
  
He stepped out of the shower, dressed and headed for the door. He stopped, looking at the truck. Felt that old familiar shiver along his spine.  
  
"C'mon, Ed. I'll be right there with you. Just like always." Murdock was beside him, smiling. He nodded, and got into the truck.  
  
They would drive to Charlie's and have breakfast. That was okay. That was good. Charlie's place wasn't really in the village. And he didn't get out of the truck while Murdock ran their errands. People would stop and talk to him, always staying a foot or so from the window. They didn't seem to mind if he didn't say much. But he did talk to them. It got easier, every week.  
  
And then they would go to the coffee shop, where they had their own table, set back in the corner. People pretty much left them alone there, just nodded at them instead of stopping to talk.  
  
Still, he was glad to get back to their trailer.  
  
Now and then, Murdock went in and talked to Dr. Feist. A couple times, Ed had had to call him to come out. But Murdock seemed to be doing pretty good, for the most part. He didn't have to do anything he really didn't feel like doing, except let Ed know if the purple wobblies came around.  
  
All in all, Ed thought they were doing pretty well.  
  
The truck pulled into the yard in front of Charlie's place, and Ed's heart beat a little faster. The van was there. He wondered if Hannibal had come along this time. Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn't. It all depended on if he had an acting job or not. If he and BA had a new client, they would come out together and get Nick. Sometimes Murdock went along, too, but not very often.  
  
Ed never did.  
  
They were walking toward the cabin now, and BA and Hannibal stepped out, big smiles on their faces, Charlie right behind them. Petey jumped out of the truck and ran pell mell toward Hannibal. Ed wanted to laugh. He knew Petey chose Hannibal because Hannibal still hated him.  
  
"Hey, Ed, how are you?"  
  
Ed smiled, relaxing.  
  
"I'm fine, Hannibal. I'm just fine..."  
  
FINI


End file.
